Resident Evil: Matriarch
by Gramm485
Summary: When a deadly new virus is retrieved, Leon, fresh out of training, must find out if more of it threatens the world. Joining him with new information is Claire Redfield, who is a little more involved than she thought...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

In a darkened room, a large projection screen ran the same news broadcast it had for the last twelve hours. On the broadcast, a pretty blond haired reporter sat behind a desk dressed in a sharp red blazer. She had been reporting the same story for the past two hours, taking over for the previous anchor that had reported before her. Consulting a stack of notes, she stared calmly into the camera and eloquently addressed the viewers tuned in.

"...No new demands have been made by the hijackers aboard flight 340 since their original one," she stated. "All attempts to further negotiate with them have been met with silence." The reporter looked down at her notes again, and the screen switched from her to a scene captioned 'earlier footage' of a Boeing 747 docked at the Washington D.C airport. It was surrounded on all sides by police and military vehicles, and about a hundred soldiers and police officers had weapons trained on it. The recorded footage zoomed in on the open hatch on the side of the plane where two figures were brandishing weapons wildly at the mass of law enforcement.

"For those viewers just joining us, at approximately 10:00 PM eastern standard time, a group of people hijacked flight 340, which was bound for San Diego from Washington D.C," the reporter said over the image. "No one on the plane was injured when the hijackers took over. The hijackers rerouted the flight over the Atlantic, and landed in the early hours of this morning to refuel. Authorities still have no idea how so many armed people were able to get onto the plane undetected."

The image changed again, this time to a shaky scene from inside the plane. "The first demands of the terrorists was access to a video camera," the reporter said over the video. "They then returned the camera's tape to the negotiators with the following message a few minutes later."

The terrorist's message was brief. Whoever held the camera obviously had no experience with it, as it slid in and out of focus. Blurring in and out of the image was a stone faced woman, brandishing a handgun. Her face was drawn into an angry and threatening mask.

"Listen up!" she shouted into the camera. The audio quality was poor, and the press had taken the time to put subtitles across the bottom of the broadcast. "We want the following people released from prison!" she vocally listed off several people. "If you do not comply, we _will_ release an untested virus into a major city on the east coast! Any attempts to fuck with us will be met with the death of one of the hostages." The camera briefly panned wildly over several rows of passengers, all of which were terrified, screaming and whimpering. Half a dozen armed men constantly threatened them. There, the camera cut and the video ended. The screen switched back to the pretty reporter.

"The names that were listed off by the hijackers are former Umbrella Corporation executives. These executives were arrested and convicted for the tragedy that occurred in Raccoon City almost a year ago. Around noon today, negotiators managed to reach an agreement with the hijackers. During the next refueling process, the majority of the hostages were released, with the exception of the pilots and one flight attendant. In return, the military allowed them to take off again. The police then asked to see the virus the hijackers possessed, but the hijackers refused. The military is still trying to determine if it is a credible threat."

As she spoke, the screen once again cut away from the reporter and back to a video labeled 'earlier footage'. It showed a boarding staircase being attached to the plane. Several dozen S.W.A.T police fully armed and armored were crowded around the staircase, brandishing guns and riot shields. The hostages were released one by one. Every time a passenger was ejected, he or she was swallowed up by the black mass of armored men and ushered away to safety.

The video skipped ahead and depicted a tense moment. Several S.W.A.T members had climbed the first few steps to retrieve the last hostage, a scared elderly man. As they secured him, a hijacker emerged holding the captive flight attendant at gunpoint at the top of the stairs. With his arm around her, he jabbed a small submachine gun to her temple, then to the police, then back to her head. The camera didn't pick up the audio from the distance it was at, but the hijacker was ranting wildly at the police. No doubt he was telling them to back away.

The flight attendant he held was a young woman who looked about 25. All the camera could reveal about her features was her jet black hair and the trim blue airline uniform she wore. She was roughly bound and gagged with what looked like duct tape. She was visibly frightened out of her wits.

The police backed off and the staircase was retracted. The airplane's hatch closed. The video stopped, and the reporter appeared on the screen again.

"The plane finished refueling without further incident, and the military allowed them to take off. They are currently circling over the Atlantic once again. The police and military estimate their time to refuel again is in four hours." The reporter took one last look at her notes. "We'll have more on this story as it develops. I'm Paige Richards for Live Action News."

The volume switched off, and the words MUTE appeared in the lower right of the screen. A man stepped in front of the screen, remote in hand. The projector creating the images washed it's light over him, turning him into a mirage of colors. He folded thick arms across his broad chest. The colors from the projector absorbed into his black shirt and black combat pants, but were still prominent on his bare arms and face. He wore an I.D badge casually on his belt: Colonel William Evans.

"It's time to take action," he said. No point in drawing it out. "Negotiations are failing miserably, and people's lives have been at stake for too long." He pointed the remote into the darkness in front of him and clicked a button. The screen that he was melding with turned from the silent news station to a collection of key photos and schematics. "We've been authorized to go in and neutralize the threat."

A good soldier, Evans firmly believed that strategy was the key to victory. That was the reason why he and five selected people had been sitting in the darkened room for the better part of a day, watching the events unfold. They would gather information and prepare to strike once the order was given. It finally was, straight from the White House.

"As always," he began. "I'm not going to stand up here and tell you what we're going to do. We talk it out." He placed his hands on his hips. "Infiltration: Any takers?"

There was a brief pause. The combination of the dark room and the projection bearing down on him made it almost impossible for Evans to see his people. True, he had final say in everything, but he wanted to here suggestions from his people. Sometimes, they had better strategies than he did.

"Well," someone began slowly, "the hijackers are on a mobile structure, which means that our points of entry are limited. In this case, an airplane, we can only enter it when it's on the ground." Evans nodded, prompting the speaker to continue. "But, they'll expect an attack when the plane is docked, which makes it difficult to gain entry and combat advantage."

Evans nodded again. "Right. Going in guns blazing puts the remaining hostages at risk. We need the element of surprise." This time, a different voice spoke.

"So we board the plane in flight?"

Evans laughed. "Almost impossible to do undetected." Using the remote, he brought up a diagram of the plane. "We sneak in when the plane is on the ground." He pointed with his hand to the underbelly of the plane and traced a line along a shaft. "This type of bird has access points from it's landing gear to the interior of the plane. We get in on the ground, wait for it to take off, then ambush them in the air. It'll look like we appeared out of nowhere." Next, he called up several photos of the hijackers; screenshots taken from the news casts.

"What do we know about the hijackers?" There was another pause. A womans voice floated through the darkness. It had a heavy Irish accent.

"We don't know their numbers, but we can confirm that they are at least about a dozen strong, judging by the clips that we've seen. But," she added, "that doesn't mean that there isn't a lot more." Evans nodded again.

"Exactly, what else?"

"As far as their armaments goes, they're carrying outdated pieces," she stated. "Sir, could you bring up slide 28?" Evans complied, and the screen switched to an interior shot of the plane from the hijackers demand video. The woman speaking into the camera had her face twisted comically, as if she was stopped in the middle of a vowel. "That bloke in the corner's got a Mac 10. The small guy on the side is jamming an AK-47 into that fat guy, and Missy here has what looks to be a VP70. Slide 34, sir?" Evans clicked the next picture up. "The guy with the attendant has got a Skorpion. All of that stuff is outdated, sir, and mismatched from different countries. If we were dealing with a military type of crew, they would be more up to date and we'd see a similarity in firepower. Plus, everyone we've seen so far is American, which rules out foreign involvement. Other than that, we don't know who they are exactly." Evans decided to remedy that.

"We do, actually. Intelligence just got us the information. Most of these people, ladies and gentlemen, have been identified as former Umbrella employees." This bit of information caused a few murmurs. A new voice spoke out.

"Well, that explains the threat with the virus." Evans nodded, this time grimly.

"That's the primary reason why we've been given the go ahead." he said. "If nothing is done, we could be looking at another Raccoon City, or worse. If it was a bomb, we could predict casualties. We don't know what this virus could do. For all we know, it could wipe out the whole damn continent." The room was silent.

"That's right. I don't need to tell you the stakes of this mission. They're as high as they come. We're not talking about the lives of just a few people..." Evans let his people dwell on that fact for a bit.

"Sir, do you have a guess is to why they're taking this type of approach?" someone asked. Evans shook his head.

"Beats me," he said, "Maybe they're sick of cloak and dagger, maybe they're just desperate. What they will do if the execs are released is anyone's guess. They just haven't given us an explanation. Although, if they wanted to cause pandemonium, they would have just released the virus, so something must be up." That seemed to satisfy the question, and Evans resumed the strategy meeting.

"Alright, one last thing before I spell it out: load out." The pause was longer than usual this time. Even Colonel Evans didn't have many ideas. It wasn't everyday that you had to have a gunfight in an airplane thirty thousand feet in the air. One wrong move and everybody could end up dead. When the suggestion was spoken, Evans was surprised to hear the team's rookie's voice.

"It's going to be a fragile environment. We go in with MP-5s, loaded with Equialloy rounds. We all take suppressors and a couple of M84's. With any luck, we can take them out little by little before they notice us, and without the plane coming apart with us in it."

"The new guy's right," Evans admitted. "That's about the only way to do this. Alright, any questions?" Silence. "Here's the plan..."

Evans mapped out their strike. The next time the plane came for a refueling, it would be guided a little closer to the airport terminal than usual. The crew refueling the plane would go about their normal business. Evan's team would emerge from a manhole directly underneath the plane. Their point of entry would be the rear right landing gear. There was an access passage that would lead to the cargo hold. Once inside the hold, they could breach through to the passenger seating. They would sweep the plane, first the general seating on the first level of the plane, then split into two teams. One would take the first class on the second level, the other would clear the rest of the first level.

Best case scenario, all the hijackers would be eliminated, and the hostages saved. They would simply land the plane at the airport. Worsening scenarios would involve parachutes, and worst case scenario, well...Evans didn't want to think about it.

"Gear up. We have a little more than two hours to get into position."

The dark room emptied, and the soldiers headed to the locker room. They all began to fit into their attire. Combat boots and black pants were slid onto their lower bodies. Knee pads secured snugly over them. Along with elbow pads, these would be essential for quick and painless movement in the bowels of the plane. Tactical vests were zipped up over their black military uniforms. The many pockets and compartments would soon be filled with ammo and utilities. Hollow sleeves on the inside of them contained Kevlar inserts, and the lining would inflate into a life preserver. Lastly, they strapped on compact parachutes. If something went out of control, the team might have to evacuate the plane in a hurry.

After tucking sleeves into full length black shooting gloves, the team left the locker room. It had taken them about ten minutes to suit up. They headed to the building's armory, their black boots clunking on the tiled floor as they made a B-line for their weapons. They each walked up to the receiving window, which was a basically a hole cut into the thick cage surrounding the mass of weapons, and acquired their weapons; six well cleaned Heckler and Koch MP-5s, suppressors already screwed in over the barrels. Additionally, they were given Beretta M92's as sidearms.

At the next window, they were given several boxes of Equialloy rounds and eighteen empty magazines for the submachine guns and handguns, three apiece. Dividing the ammo and magazines, the team began to slide each individual round into the magazines. The Equialloy rounds were aluminum, coated in plastic, and filled with small buckshot. They were designed to enter the target, then discharge the buckshot inside. They were high speed rounds, but would slow greatly on impact. Other than against a human body, they had very little penetration power. The buckshot would cause additional internal trauma. If the bullet exited, it wouldn't be moving fast enough to do any damage to any of the surroundings.

Once filled, they slid the loaded magazines into their vests. From the man behind the ammo window they received two M84 flashbang grenades and a single breaching charge apiece. They would need the flashbangs, but the charges were extra, just in case.

The final touch to their equipment would be gas masks. In the poorly ventilated aircraft, it would quickly get smoky and hard to breath and see after the gunfire and light explosives. The team exited the armory in less than 20 minutes.

With their masks hanging at their belts and submachine guns slung over their shoulders, they headed to the motor pool and loaded into two idling SUV's. Already being located in Washington gave them plenty of time to get to the airport. During the drive, they stuck ear buds in and hooked them to the radios at their belts. A thin elastic strap secured the wire around their neck. A brief check showed that they were working properly.

The airport was closed to the public, and full of police and military. It was an unusually good day for such a dark atmosphere. The sun was shining, and there were hardly any clouds in the sky.

The military made way for the team. Evans spoke with a few people, relaying the plan. He had everyone's full agreement. It was at this time that Evans felt the excitement he always felt before a mission. He wasn't exactly _excited _in a good way, but his adrenaline was already beginning to flow. He was pumped, and ready to do his job. They found the manhole they would emerge from. One of the soldier's voice's crackled over Evan's earpiece.

"Looks like they're coming in a little ahead of schedule," the soldier said. "You've got twenty minutes, over."

"Copy," Evans radioed back. "Everyone pile in," he ordered, "We have to get into position."

The team entered the manhole and filed into the cramped sewer, and tried to ignore the horrible smell. They strapped on their gas masks. The woman with the Irish accent laughed as they loaded their weapons by the beams of flashlights..

"I knew it was a good idea to bring masks," she said, her voice muffled by the filter. "I just hope that this smell doesn't linger. It'll give us away before we even enter the plane."

"Can it, Cullen. Focus." barked Evans, sliding the manhole back into place over them. Cullen didn't say anything else, but still sniggered beneath her mask.

A few minutes later, they all heard the whining sound of airplane engines. It grew louder and louder until it was directly above them. Now, like Evans, all of their adrenaline started to pump. Any second now. Then, in all of their ears...

"Fueling crew is working, move in."

Evans pried the manhole open, and the team quickly filed out. The plane was a massive gray missile, looming right above them. Scampering low to the ground, they booked it for the landing gear. Evans cleared the gap for hostiles, then climbed up into the plane. He was followed by Cullen, the rookie, and the rest of the team.

"No change in activity," the soldier who radioed them reported, "You're clear."

The access passage was tiny. All the gear they carried plus the emergency parachutes strapped to their backs wasn't making it any bigger. Crawling on his belly, Evans led his team towards the rear of the plane foot by foot.

"Keep it down," he radioed, wincing at the loud banging echoing down the shaft. "We've got plenty of time before we're airborne." The team slowed to a painstaking crawl; feet became inches, but the banging they made subsided. They didn't want to create any noise to give away their presence.

Some time later, the fueling process was complete. The team now lay huddled just outside the cargo room. Evans could feel the plane taxi back to the runway, then begin to accelerate. Even though he didn't mind flying, he felt a little nauseous from the rapid speed and cramped quarters. After a few minutes, the plane slowed and began it's slow ascent to cruising altitude.

Evans dug into one of his many pockets and pulled out a thin fiber optic wire. He cracked open the hatch he was near and stuck it out, then looked through the scope. From what he could see, the cargo room was empty. When he listened, he didn't hear any activity other than the growl of the plane's engines. He clicked his radio to a permanent broadcast. From now on, his team would hear him in their ears.

"Lock your mikes on. Move out, keep it quiet."

Quietly opening the hatch, he crawled out. The entire room was full of suitcases and bags. Luckily, the service hatch was on the correct side of the cargo hold, so they didn't have to make their way through a sea of luggage. The rest of the team emerged from the passageway. Evans pulled out a small PDA from a pocket. No messages. Evans had it because they would be out of radio range. The air control would contact him when the plane was safely out over the Atlantic again. They didn't know for sure if the hijackers would take that path again, but it was their only option. If the plane was destroyed, no wreckage would injure anyone on dry land.

"Kennedy, drill through and plant a scope directly above you." Evans ordered, "You should be able to see the second class seating." The rookie gave a curt nod.

"Roger," he said and moved into place and took a small drill from a pouch, then began to drill through the low ceiling. Evans turned to the next soldier. They all looked the same because of their masks, but Evans was a good enough leader to tell who was who.

"Grover, get out the cutting torch and prepare to slice." Grover took the small pack he was carrying and unpacked the torch, then set it up.

The minutes passed slowly. Evans could feel the sweat running down his brow and along the seal of his gas mask.

"_It's so hot in these damn masks!_"

The rookie finished planting the fiber optic scope. Brushing some metal shavings and plaster of his face, he peered awkwardly through the lens of his mask.

"Two hostiles, further down the seating area." At that moment, Evan's PDA beeped softly. He had a new message. It was short and sweet:

**-You're fifty miles out, heading east. Good luck.-**

Showtime.

"Grover, start cutting." Evans ordered. "Kennedy, watch if anyone notices."

It took Grover about ten minutes to create a three square foot hole in the ceiling. Luckily, none of the hijackers noticed the acrid scent of burning metal or the sound of the cutting torch. Grover, with the help of another teammate, lowered the square of metal to the floor quietly. They then gave Evans a boost into the cabin above when the rookie confirmed that the hijackers hadn't moved.

Tucked around a corner, he wasn't visible to the men that the rookie had seen. He was near the rear hatch, past seat row 69 in the back of the plane. He motioned over the hole, and Cullen popped up. He helped her up, and she pressed herself against the wall next to him. Next came the rookie. He peeked around the corner, then crossed the gap and took cover behind a counter. The fourth and fifth soldier came up through the hole. They took positions next to the rookie and Cullen. The sixth soldier had to jump and get hauled up by the arms, but he made only the softest noise as he was pulled up.

Once everyone was up, Evans looked around the corner slowly. The two men the rookie saw were still at the far end of the cabin, chatting. One had a pistol, the other had a submachine gun whose model Evans couldn't make out.

Evans voice was a whisper in his teams ear. "Short, controlled bursts. Call your kills. Kennedy, Cullen, you're with me on point. Grover, Stark, Collins, watch our backs and clean up."

Evans, Cullen and the rookie filed out, their guns pointed in front of them, locked onto the two chatting hijackers. The remaining three soldiers followed. The aisle between the plane's seats branched into two rows; there were three seats apiece on either side of the plane, plus three in the middle for a total of nine across. Stretching down the length of the plane, all the seats on both levels held about 428 people. As they rounded the bathroom, Evans heard the sound of a toilet flushing.

"Shit! Lavatory!" he whispered. A door opened next to him. A man with a shotgun strapped across his back stood in the doorway buckling his belt. He looked up in surprise at Evans. Before he could react, Evans rammed the butt of his MP-5 into his face. The man fell back into the bathroom and bounced off the sink. The two men at the end of the cabin turned at the clatter and looked in shock. Evans gave the order.

"Weapons free."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Evans, Cullen, and the rookie all fired before the two hijackers could get their guns halfway up. Three MP-5's sputtered quietly, and the two of them fell, riddled with bullets.

"Move!" Evans barked. Speed was critical. Their guns were silenced, but in an enclosed area, even the littlest sound seemed loud. Already, the hijackers could be alerted to their presence and moving to intercept them. Cullen broke off and took the left aisle, hunched over and speed walking, her mask glued to the comb of her submachine gun. Stark and Collins followed her in identical positions. Evans and the rookie took right, followed by Grover. Another hijacker popped out from the galley ahead of them and received a volley of gunfire from the team. He collapsed to the floor with a grunt.

"Tango down!" A fourth hijacker jumped out from the other side of the galley, closer to Evans. A quick, silent burst sprayed blood on the cushioned seat.

"Hostile neutralized!" Evans barked and walked up to the galley and cleared it, only to see Cullen doing the exact same thing on the other side. "Clear!"

"Romeo-1 secured," radioed Stark. They had the ship broken into four parts: rear, middle-1, middle-2, front and upper.

"Move up!" Evans barked.

As he stepped into the galley, he spotted three more hijackers in the next section. They were running towards the team, no doubt rushing to see what the problem was. The rookie fired a burst and clipped one as he ran.

"Tango down!" The remaining hijackers fired. In comparison to the teams suppressed weapons, the gunfire seemed to shake the very air of the enclosed cabin. One had a what looked like an M16 assault rifle, and the other Evans recognized as the man with the Skorpion who held the flight attendant in the video. Evans, Cullen, and the rookie ducked into the galley. Stark, Collins, and Grover ducked behind seats behind the separating wall back in the dubbed 'rear' section of the plane. The bullets whizzed by all of them, penetrating the rear and sides of the aircraft where they hid. Air began to hiss as it was sucked out of the differently pressured atmosphere.

Evan's trained hands fished a flashbang out and pulled the pin.

"Flash out." He tossed it around the corner and looked away. There was a deafening BANG, and a brilliant flash of light followed by cries of pain. "Gogogo!" Cullen, the rookie, and himself swept around the corner and into the cabin. There was a light smoke that fogged their vision slightly. Two more hijackers had entered the fray, but in their haste were caught by the blinding flash of the stun grenade. All four of the hijackers in the area were reeling. Some had dropped their guns and were covering their eyes and ears.

Cullen shot one hiding behind some seats. There was a puff of white fluff and a spray of red blood as he collapsed into the aisle.

"X-ray down!"

Evans and the rookie downed the second and third hijackers.

"Hostile neutralized!"

"Tango down!"

From behind and across the middle row of seats, Grover shot the fourth, who was tucked near the middle hatch, through the head,

"Target down! Section Mike-1 secured!" he shouted as the hijacker fell, his gun fired wildly. The Micro-Uzi in his hand peppered the wall with bullets, and more air began to escape through the dozens of bullet holes. Then, the wall of the aircraft broke away, taking the three seats along the wall from row 37 with it, and a massive torrent swept through the cabin. Anything that wasn't a hundred pounds or nailed down was swept into the sky outside. Paper, pens, blankets, and shell casings flew through the air. Oxygen masks dropped from above the seats.

"Hull breach!" Evans yelled, "Hold on!" The plane dipped to the side, almost spilling Cullen out of the hole. In a few seconds, the wind lost it's suction, but still whipped violently from the aircraft's high speed. Cullen hastily made her way past the gaping hole in the aircraft, followed by Stark and Collins. They pressed into the dividing area between sections, near the middle hatch and across from some bathrooms. Cullen dropped her empty magazine from her firearm.

"Changing mag." She quickly loaded the gun and resumed her stance. Ahead of them, five hijackers were holed into various parts of cover, waiting in ambush. The rookie had already pulled a flashbang from his pocket and lobbed it through the doorway into the next section before they even confirmed a hostile presence.

"Flash out!"

The team pressed themselves against the dividing walls of the cabin and in between the bathrooms. The flashbang went off, and they swept into the smoky cabin.

The rookie and Evans ran out of ammo after dropping two hijackers. The rest of them where firing wildly, their shots landing nowhere near any of the team. None of the walls broke away again, although the wind was still chaotically tearing through the plane.

"Tango down!"

"X-ray down!"

Evans and the rookie kneeled and let Grover fire over their heads. A spray of blood streaked across the wall as one slumped over in the aisle.

"Tango down!"

Cullen, Stark and Collins dropped the remaining two. Their voices joined as they each reported the kills.

"X-ray down!"

"Tango down!"

"Hostile neutralized! Mike-2 clear!"

Evans and the rookie finished reloading and resumed position.

"Staircase!" the rookie said. Ahead of them was the small staircase that lead to the upper level.

"Grover, take Stark and Collins and clear Foxtrot!" Evans ordered, "Kennedy, Cullen, on me!" The team split and went their respective routes. Just as Evans, Cullen, and the rookie began to climb the stairs, Evans heard the bang of a flashbang detonating followed by suppressed weapons fire as well as normal gunfire. He was so focused on the move ahead of him, he barely heard the confirmation of three kills in his earpiece.

Cullen tossed a flashbang up and over the edge of the stairs and it went off in it's blinding flash. The three of them rushed up the stairs and fanned out. There were six hijackers enjoying the first class suite, and all of them were now dazed and confused by the flashbang. A chatter of silenced gunfire later, all of them were dead with their blood pooling into the expensive carpet. The flight attendant who was taken hostage was on the floor in front of the corpse of the woman from the video. She was moaning in pain through the tape plastered across her mouth, and a small trickle of blood flowed out of her ear. Her close proximity to the woman suggested that she was going to be used as a bullet shield.

"Kennedy, secure the hostage," Evans ordered, "Cullen, find the virus." Evans went ahead and opened the door that led to the cockpit. He found a gruesome scene. Both of them were executed with shots to the head. One was slumped over the controls with the blood from his wounds filling the gaps between switches and buttons. The other was leaning with his head rolled back, staring glass eyed at the ceiling.

"_So much for the best case scenario..._" he thought angrily, then slammed his fist against the wall. Two innocent men had died. He trudged, feeling somewhat defeated in spite of a decent victory, back to the first class cabin. The rookie had rolled the flight attendant onto her stomach, and was cutting the bands of tape from her wrists. At least they had saved her.

The young woman had recovered from the flashbang. Her cheeks were streaked with black mascara from earlier weeping, and now fresh tears were creating new tracks. The blue airline uniform had one of it's sleeves almost ripped off, revealing a lighter blue blouse underneath. She wasn't wearing any shoes, but Evans figured that she would have been wearing high heels. They were probably lost somewhere in the hijacking. Her black nylons had many runs and tears, no doubt from being pulled, dragged, and thrown on the floor.

The rookie cut her loose in a matter of seconds and pulled the tape off her lips. She gave a small yelp, then got up onto her hands and knees of her own strength. She habitually fixed a strand of loose hair from her eyes, as if she didn't know what else to do. She fell back against the rookie's knees as the plane gave another shaky jolt. He helped her to her feet.

"You okay?" the rookie asked, and the attendant gave a shaky nod. He saw his superior enter. "Pilots, sir?" Evans made a gun with his fingers and pointed it to his head, then mimed the trigger.

"_Why the hell would they kill the only people who could fly the plane?_" Evans already guessed the answer. The hijackers were cornered, and intended to take down the whole plane as payback. "_Well thank God we were prepared._"

Cullen was busy opening a small black armored case on the table in the cabin. The first class cabin was pretty decked out. It only had about twenty seats, the rest of the space was foot room. There was a large, deeply varnished table in the middle of the room that was probably used for catering.

"Sir, virus confirmed," she reported, and swiveled the open black case on the smooth glossy surface. Inside it was a single cylindrical vial about eight inches long set deep into protective foam padding. The vial glowed with a dull orange liquid.

Stark, Grover, and Collins came up the stairs behind them.

"Sir, all targets in Foxtrot-1 are neutralized." Evans was about to reply when a long drawn out profanity from Cullen interrupted him.

"Sheeeeyiit!" she cursed. "Uh, SIR!? We have a problem!" Evans looked and saw that their situation dropped from decent case scenario to somewhere between FUBAR and screwed.

Cullen had opened the second case. It looked like a bulky metal cosmetics case. Inside of it were two large bricks of C4 explosives with various wires and electronics sticking into them. A red flashing light told Evans that the bomb was armed.

"Shit!" he agreed. "Stark, get the door, we're leaving!" Stark ran to the emergency hatch on the side of the cabin and stuck a breaching charge on it. "Cullen, grab the virus. Kennedy you got the girl!" Cullen grabbed the black case containing the virus off of the table. The rookie grabbed the flight attendant and turned her away from the hatch, shielding her body with his.

"You ever been sky diving?" he asked her.

"I...what? No...I-I-"

"Well, you're about to get a free lesson!"

There was an explosion and the gusting torrent returned. The smoke from the flashbang vanished. Stark's charge had blown the door and some of the cabin wall away, and like on the level below them, small bits of scraps were getting sucked into the open atmosphere.

"Go!" roared Evans. Cullen went first with the virus, psychotically laughing as she jumped headfirst out of the irregular hole and disappeared from sight. The rookie held the flight attendant firmly by the shoulders.

"Hold on to my belt and don't let go!" he yelled, then dragged her to the windy exit.

"What?! Wait...No! I- AAAAAAH!!!" she screamed as she and the rookie disappeared out the hole. Stark, Collins, and Grover followed him. Last was Evans. He leaped out of the plane, seeing first nothing but bright sun and white, then a row of black; his team each a different size from their jumping intervals. He twisted in the air and saw the 747 above him, streaking away.

The forward section of the plane exploded into an orange ball of fire. It lost it's aerodynamics and folded, ripping itself apart. The burning mass began to fall just like they did to the sea below.

Free falling through the stratosphere, Evans hit the GPS locater on his hip once he fell into a puff of clouds. He checked the altimeter on his harness, and fell out of the clouds, preparing to deploy his parachute. He saw his team's chutes open below him one by one. He pulled his cord, and the canopy opened above him, jerking him roughly as it slowed his decent.

Once he was about twenty feet above the surface of the Atlantic, he cut the lines to his chute and dropped into the water. Frigid ocean water washed over him, and he pulled the inflation string to the life vest he wore under his tactical vest. Surfacing and spitting out a mouthful of sea water, he swam to where the rest of his team had congregated. His radio cracked in his wet ear.

"Colonel Evans, we have your locater's position. We'll be there in five, over." Evans ripped the gas mask from his face and fingered the send switch of his radio underwater at his hip.

"Ugh, copy. Mission successful. We're not going anywhere. Out."

The rest of the team had also stripped off their masks. Cullen was still laughing. Collins splashed water at her.

"You freakin' psychopath!" Cullen only returned the favor.

"Ha! You know you love it." The rest of them joined in her laughter and splashing, with the exception of the flight attendant, who was still clinging to the rookie like a small child. She could only stare at her saviors as they seemed to go crazy in the middle of the ocean. After a while, they all settled down and simply bobbed in the waves. The sound of a helicopter got closer and closer. Their extraction.

"Cullen, you got that case?" Evans asked. Cullen nodded.

"I locked and belted it to my waist during free fall, sir," she said, her arm moving underwater as if to knock on something at her side. "It's secured."

The flight attendant let her head fall against the rookie's shoulder, and she sighed horribly.

"What a shitty first day..." she mumbled into the wet material of his vest, and shivered. The rookie chuckled. She looked at him crossly. "Shut up." He just smirked at her. She couldn't help but stifle a laugh. To the rookie's surprise, she leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips. "Thanks," she said in his ear. "What's your name?" The rookie's smile widened and he laughed again.

"Leon Kennedy, and today was _my_ first day."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

By the time he showered and debriefed, Leon was exhausted. It wasn't every day that he swept through a plane in under a minute and a half, gunning down armed men, then fell thirty thousand feet into a freezing ocean. The post-adrenal fueled agent wanted nothing more than a cup of coffee. He had another harrowing task ahead of him: paperwork. He had to catalog his events in a mission report by the end of the day. To Leon, the paperwork was tougher than the mission.

"_I never could write,_" he thought as he turned the last corner to his office. "_I may as well have failed English in high school_"

Running a hand through his light brown/blond hair, he yawned and stepped into his office. The cramped room sat two. There was still coffee left in the small coffee maker in the corner of the room, so he poured himself a cup. He took a sip and grimaced, then added an ample amount of sugar. He sat down at his desk and flipped open his laptop computer, then logged into the buildings network.

Since the organization that Leon worked for didn't technically exist, they didn't have an official building like the CIA or FBI. Instead, they were crammed into a small wing inside the Federal Bureau of Intelligence. The whole organization contained only about fifty people. Leon was part of a group that had special training to put Navy SEALS to shame. The group worked from the direct word of the President himself.

Normally, Leon would have never even thought to work for the government. That all changed after Raccoon City. After the horrible incident, Leon began to take the fight to Umbrella, working here and there with underground organizations. Eventually when he was called to testify against the evil corporation, the government approached him. They said they could use a man of his caliber. Apparently, they were impressed with how Leon managed to escape a city filled with flesh eating monsters and zombies almost unscathed.

After he put in enough time in the field, Leon would be stationed to guard the President and his family. However, he had quite a bit of downtime before that happened. He wouldn't be eligible for another few years, provided that everything went smoothly, which it never did.

"_It's just too bad there isn't a little more glamor to this job._"

Sure, Leon was satisfied that he was doing his role as a law enforcement officer and getting the chance to eliminate Umbrella. But any deeds he would do wouldn't be released to the public. All the press got about the incident earlier that day was that a special forces team raided the plane. End of story. No names or faces.

"_Oh well, suck it up_."

Leon opened a word processor and began to go over the events that had transpired. He was working steadily for about a half hour when a loud bang diverted his attention. His officemate was back. Bounding loudly into the room was none other than Cullen.

"Leon! Didn't expect to see you here!" she crowed.

Cullen was about as Irish as anyone could be. She had short, bright red hair and brilliant green eyes. Even if her thick accent didn't give her away, one could probably guess that she was native born. Always the brashest and rowdiest in the organization, it was no wonder she was always dubbed as crazy.

Initially, Leon saw it as a curse that he had her as an officemate. The thirty year old woman never seemed to do any work, yet she was always caught up with paperwork. She was loud, a bit irritating, and her side of the room was always trashed. However, after training with her and seeing her in action, Leon realized that he was actually very lucky. Allana Cullen was one of the best fighters he had seen in a long time, and had a long record of missions and operations that were flawlessly performed. She was one of the most dedicated operatives in the organization.

"What are you talking about?" he asked her, not taking his eyes off his computer, "We both have stuff to do." He turned the dagger of inquisition. "Where were you?" There was a clatter as Cullen dropped into her computer chair, which groaned painfully under her. She leaned back and fell into Leon's peripheral vision. He found her hair quite distracting.

"Never mind me," she replied cryptically, "Why aren't you out on the town snogging that little vixen from the mission?" Leon fumbled on his keyboard.

"What are you talking about?" he asked again, correcting his mistakes, then finally looking at Cullen. She grinned mischievously.

"Don't play stupid, rookie. I saw that little pogue she gave you when we were floatin' in the the sea." Leon rolled his eyes and turned back to his work, his ears turning a little pink.

"That was nothing," he muttered, irked at her nosiness. Cullen laughed and leaned forward, and Leon heard her boot up her computer.

"Call it what you want, but I know what I saw," she said. "So, what did you tell her?" Leon sighed irritably. The only way he was getting out of this was by telling her straight up. If he didn't, he probably wouldn't get anything done.

"I told her 'thanks, but sorry, it would be unprofessional on my part'." Cullen groaned.

"Kennedy, you sure can be stupid."

"What, how is that stupid? I'm supposed to sweep every girl who offers herself to me off her feet? That doesn't seem like something that should be practiced by a US agent."

"Well," Cullen began, "technically we don't exist, so..."

"Enough!" Leon snapped, "Just drop it! Besides," he added, "it wasn't like she was broken up about it. In fact, she looked a little embarrassed when she asked me." Cullen laughed behind him.

"I certainly am bushed," she said, finally dropping the subject and yawning. Leon yawned with her.

"Some coffee in the pot, but it's old," he said, taking a sip of his.

"Pass."

Cullen dug into a drawer and pawed through the clutter, finally procuring an mp3 player. She turned chair to the side and kicked her feet up on her desk, then stuck the earphones on. Leon heard Flogging Molly blaring quite clearly through her headphones. It was a wonder how she wasn't deaf. She buried her face in a newspaper, and Leon seized the chance to plow through his mission report.

"_File, save, and copy._"

He copied the report to an email sent it to Colonel Evans'. As his squad leader, he would collect the entire team's reports, then send them to the director of the organization. He shut his computer down and closed it, then glanced at his watch.

"_Huh, done early for a change._"

He got up from his desk and grabbed his coat. He gave a brief wave to Cullen, who still hadn't moved from her position. He shut the door on his way out, and headed to the row of mailboxes that covered one of the walls. Keying open the one that said **Kennedy/Cullen**, he peered briefly inside and found it at first to be empty, but a then he saw a small white envelope near the back. He pulled it out, confirmed that it was addressed to him, and locked the box. As he turned to head to the elevator, he almost collided with a woman walking the opposite way. It was a young woman, who barely looked twenty. Her arms were full of files and papers that almost when flying everywhere, had she not been quick to recover.

"Oh, sorry," Leon said quickly. The woman secured her files, then looked at Leon, surprised.

"Oh...uh, Leon Kennedy?" she asked. Leon nodded. She awkwardly stuck her right hand out, balancing the files with her right elbow and left arm. "Hi, I'm Ingrid Hunnigan. I've been looking for you. Let me first say congratulations on a successful mission today!" Leon took her small hand and shook it.

"Uh, thanks," he said. This certainly came out of nowhere. The young woman had to have been one of the organization's secretaries. She didn't have a soldiers build, and she wore a blue blazer and a matching skirt with heels. Not exactly a fighting type. With her dark brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail and wire frame glasses, Leon would have bet his paycheck that she was a secretary.

"I'm glad I caught you," she said. "The director wants you have a look in the virology department. They've started to analyze the virus that your team recovered."

"_So much for leaving early_,"

"Why me?" he asked, trying not to sound ungrateful.

"Well, you've had the most experience with this type of thing, so he thought you would be a good choice." Leon shrugged.

"Alright, I'll take a look, but I'm no scientist." Hunnigan beamed.

"Excellent!" she said, shifting the bundle of files in her hands to prevent one from falling out. "I've been instructed to escort you."

"Do you want to drop those off first?" Leon said indicating to the files. She shook her head.

"No, I'll be fine," she assured him. "This has some information that I'm supposed to give you. The rest is stuff that I have to drop off in virology, and I just haven't taken the time to sort it yet."

"Ah."

"If you'll please follow me." Hunnigan marched off towards the elevator. Leon was actually a little glad that she was leading him. He had only been to the virology department once, and he didn't want to waste time getting turned around. He absently stuck the letter in his pocket without looking at it further.

The elevator was already waiting for them when they got there. It opened when Leon pressed the call button.

"What floor?" Leon asked.

"Oh, B3. Thanks." Leon hit the button on the bottom of the panel and the doors closed, lowering the elevator to the third basement sub level.

"Forgive me for asking," Leon began, "But how did you get a position in this organization? You're awfully young..." Hunnigan looked embarrassed.

"I really don't know," she said. "I was a poli sci major in college. I only earned an Associate Degree. I figured I would be working as a secretary in some government office until I got myself back into college. I guess I am, but I didn't realize that I would be thrust into some invisible organization."

"No one does," Leon said laughing.

"Now, I figure I'm in this deep, I may as well start training for a different position," Hunnigan said. "Somewhere in communications. What about you?" she asked Leon. "How did you get started here?"

"I don't know, law enforcement has always been my thing. After Raccoon, I guess I wanted to kick it up a notch." Leon gave an airy chuckle. "You never know when something will change someone." He had the fleeting sensation of his hand slowly losing grip on another, slender feminine one. Hunnigan seemed to sense that talking about Raccoon City was striking a bad nerve with Leon, so she changed the subject.

"Uh...I heard about that training record you broke," she said, almost hopefully, then laughed. "I guess Major Conrad had a fit."

Leon gave a chuckle. People were still talking about it. Boot camp for the organization was hell on earth. Everything from physical obstacle courses, to mind shattering puzzles and tricks were applied daily. Of about 100 hopefuls, only four made it. Leon was one of them. One of the toughest courses that was required was Major Steven Conrad's close quarters battle test. For twelve straight years, he held the fastest record, and never let anyone forget about it.

The course entitled sweeping a series of hallways and rooms full of targets, and of course avoiding the hostages. Control of ammunition and weapon handling was critical. You had to use only two clips of a submachine gun, then switch to your sidearm in mid course. Each target had to be a confirmed kill. A few wrong shots could cost you the whole course. Passing time was 25 seconds or less. Major Conrad's time twelve years ago was 15.65 seconds.

Leon had to run the course a few times before he got the hang of it. It was never the same twice. The range officers constantly switched the targets around. Things had started smoothly on his last run. He was dropping the targets with impressive speed, but unfortunately, he got a little trigger happy with his primary weapon, and had to draw his pistol a little early. By the time he reached the end of the course, he had fired his last two rounds on the second last target. Out of options, he drew his combat knife and lobbed it at the last target. It struck the cardboard cutout of the shooting criminal in the chest and got lodged all the way up to the hilt. Not caring if it counted or even hit, Leon finished the course. His time: 14.96.

Major Conrad almost punched Leon as soon as he stepped off the course. The range officer declared the knife throw a kill, but Conrad protested that it was an illegal maneuver. Everything known to man made to measure speed was used to calculate Leon's exact time. Once it was certain that Leon's time was correct, the only thing left to debate was if the knife kill was legitimate. In a unanimous decision, three of Conrad's superiors declared that Leon had kept a cool head, and that the kill was legit. He was awarded a passing grade, as well as the new title of record holder. Conrad didn't deck him, but he did overturn a table full of disassembled weapons, which got him suspended for two weeks.

"Eh, it wasn't anything special," Leon tried to say modestly "They probably gave it to me 'cause Conrad was an asshole." The elevator doors opened with a ding, and Leon gestured for Hunnigan to step out first. The basements of the building were only made of concrete and steel, unlike the halls above which were plaster and decorative wood. Hunnigan led Leon through several halls, twisting and turning past a firing range, a computer room, and several small offices. Finally, they reached the doorway labeled 'Virology'. Leon swept his badge through the card reader, and a positive chime with a green light bid them entry. Leon pulled the heavy metal and glass door open for Hunnigan, who entered and thanked him for his courtesy.

"They're working on it right now," she said, "We can watch through the observation room." Her heels clicked loudly on the concrete floor, almost overpowering the clumping noise of Leon's boots as they walked together down a short hall and into a room labeled 'Research Observation'. The room had only a few chairs and a table. One wall was made of solid glass. On the other side was the sterile research room, where half a dozen people were clad in full bright blue hazmat suits doing various tests and experiments. They had taken a sample of the virus from the plane. About a thimble full sat in a small canister on a table. Maybe it was just Leon's imagination, but in the different setting, the virus seemed to glow an even brighter orange.

"They haven't found out too much yet," said Hunnigan as she cautiously pulled a file from out of the middle of the stack. She balanced it on the top of it and opened it, then peered inside. "So far, it seems to be very similar to the virus from Raccoon City." Leon nodded.

"The T-virus."

"Yes," she scanned down the file a little more. "So far, the biggest discovery is that this new virus infects it's host a lot faster than the T-virus. The T-virus takes about 12 hours to reanimate a corpse, and about 24 hours to kill and reanimate a living body. This new virus only took 4 hours to take over dead tissue. We're still waiting for results on the live experiment, but then again, the testing only began about 7 hours ago..."

Leon noted all the dead lab rats and various animals in cages along the walls. The thought of zombie animals didn't comfort him. It was a good thing that his mission was successful. It sounded like this thing would have indeed created another Raccoon City, if not worse.

Hunnigan pulled several more files from her stack and handed them to Leon.

"Here are the preliminary reports," she said. "Any updates will come straight to you." Leon took them and stuck them under his arm.

"Thanks."

"One more thing," Hunnigan said. "The President is making this task a priority for the organization. We need people experienced with dealing with this sort of thing. Do you know about the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad, better known as S.T.A.R.S?"

Of course Leon knew them. He had been helping them the entire time, although it was against orders. Chris and Claire Redfield, Jill Valentine, Barry Burton, and Rebecca Chambers. What of them?

"Yeah, I know 'em," he said slowly. "Claire Redfield was with me in Raccoon City."

"The President has decided to lift the watch on them. They wanted the freedom to begin to root out Umbrella secrets when the company crumbled, but they were refused." Leon knew all of this of course, but if he told anyone about it, he would probably be thrown in jail for treason. "In light of recent events, they were contacted, and now have our full support." Hunnigan looked at one last file in her arms. "They just returned from North Dakota a few days ago, and said that they would be contacting us with some information."

As if that rang a bell, Leon pulled the letter that had been stuffed into his pocket. He finally looked at the front of it, first at the recipient's name.

'**Kennedy, Leon'**

Below that was written an address. It was the Bureau's. Whoever sent the letter figured that it would probably reach him somehow. He was surprised it wasn't opened. Any mail that came to them was intensively screened for tampering or sabotage. As soon as he saw the return address, he realized that the sender was indeed smart enough to assume that.

'**Redfield'**

**"**Looks like we already have," Leon said, showing her the letter.

"Alright," Hunnigan said, looking surprised at how fast the S.T.A.R.S worked. "I'll leave you to it." She nodded in the direction of the files in her arms. "I need to drop these off. It was nice meeting you, Leon."

"You too...uh..."

"_Crap, I forgot her name already!_" Hunnigan smiled.

"Ingrid, Ingrid Hunnigan."

"Yeah...Ingrid." Leon apologized. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you around. Who knows, maybe we'll work together someday." With that, she left the observation room.

Leon slid his finger under the flap of the envelope and opened it. There was only a folded piece of paper. He took it out and read it. It was pretty short.

**Leon,**

**We've got information from our last outing. Why don't we meet? It's pretty important to risk the usual lines. Plus, I haven't seen you in ages! I'll pick you up at the airport at the return address's location. Just email Chris when you're coming.**

**Claire**

Leon was surprised to see Claire's name signed at the bottom of the paper. He hadn't spoken to Claire since they left for Paris after Raccoon City; only to Chris and and occasionally Rebecca. What Claire said in the letter definitely sounded important if they risked sending a letter with their location on it.

Leon tucked the letter in his pocket and made his way back to the elevator. He had to drop the files off in his office, then pay a visit to Colonel Evans. He needed clearance to leave. As soon as he had it, he could send Chris the message that he was on his way.

He smiled to himself as he rode the elevator back up to his office. It was just like she said: they hadn't seen each other in ages. For two people who relied on each other to survive in Raccoon City, Leon wondered why he hadn't kept in touch with her.

"_Probably because she kept moving around, and you were too busy training._"

Oh well, they would have plenty of time to catch up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Leon's second flight was a lot more enjoyable then his previous one. There were no gun toting men or bombs, and he looked forward to walking off the plane, rather than diving out of it in mid flight with a screaming hostage in his arms. It was a four hour flight from Washington to the city where the S.T.A.R.S had settled.

Colonel Evans had allowed Leon to leave with no problem. As long as, he had said, it was pertinent to his assignment at hand, and not to visit an old girlfriend. The letter mentioned information, but also hinted that Claire only wanted to see him. Leon assured Evans that Claire wouldn't drag him across the country unless it was important. He hoped.

He didn't intend to stay long, only for a few days. Everything he needed was packed into a duffel bag which he carried on the plane with him. With no luggage to wait for, he passed right through the baggage carousels and into security.

By the time the plane landed, it was 2:00 PM. As Leon passed through the metal detectors on the way out of the terminal, it buzzed as it detected the Sig Sauer P220 in the shoulder holster underneath his arm. As a government agent, he carried a weapon with him at all times. The security guards halted him, and he took his wallet out and dropped it open in their faces, giving them a good long look at his I.D. His identification was authentic FBI, but the division on it was made up (his organization didn't exist). Once they had taken a hard look, he pulled his coat open, and gave them a look at the gun set into the nylon holster and it's spare magazines on the opposite strap. Leon had to do the same thing before he got on the plane. Security waved him by, and he plucked his duffel bag off the scanning belt.

Leon stuffed his wallet back into his pocket and headed to the airport lobby. He remembered what Chris had said in his reply email. They would be waiting for him around 2:15. He checked his watch. 2:11. They might be there already. Leon walked into the entryway of the airport. There were people walking in every direction.

"_Should've picked a better meeting spot._" He scanned the mass of people for the Redfield siblings, but didn't see anything. As he did, he heard a clumping sound drawing closer. It sounded like feet that were wearing heavy boots. Leon thought that it was either a late commuter, or a clumsy purse snatcher. Either way, the noise directed his attention.

As he turned, the sound reached it's peak and something jumped up and onto him, almost throwing him off his feet. Whatever it was latched onto him; he felt the sensation of arms around his neck something else around his waist. The force bumped his duffel bag and it almost slipped off his shoulder. His vision went black as a handful of brown hair swept across his eyes.

"Leon!" A familiar voice cried, laughing. Leon shook the brown ponytail out of his face and laughed as well.

"Good to see you too, Claire."

Claire released her embrace on Leon and leaned back, leaving her arms draped around his neck. Her athletic legs were coiled around his midsection, supporting most of her weight, and Leon held her with both of his arms around her waist, supporting the rest. She sat about half a foot higher than he did and beamed brightly at him.

"Have a good flight?" she asked. Leon shrugged.

"Eh, they're always pretty boring," he said, grinning inwardly while thinking about yesterday. "I hate sitting still." He wrenched his shoulder up, trying to get the strap of his duffel bag further on.

Claire sensed that her parasitic grasp was causing him trouble, plus passerbys were giving them odd looks. She released her leg lock on Leon, and she dropped to her feet, her knee high combat boots clumping on the airport's tiled floor. She now came up to his shoulder. Leon scanned the area past her shoulder. Chris was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Chris?" he asked her. "Didn't you two come together?" Claire shook her head.

"Something came up at the last minute," she said, "In the middle of last night. He and the others left. He told me to stay and meet with you."

"Did they find something?" Leon asked.

"Yeah, but they didn't say what." She looked crestfallen, despite seeing her friend again. "Chris told me to not to worry, of course. I just hope they don't take too long or run into trouble." Her features brightened again. "But now you're here, and I've got someone to keep me company."

"And I thought I was here on business," Leon said. "My superior won't take too kindly to the fact that I shipped out just on a visit."

"Don't worry, there'll be plenty to talk about," she assured him, "but what's the harm in catching up first? Come one, let's get out of here!"

Leon could only grin at the excitement of the college aged girl. She hardly seemed like the person he met in Raccoon City. Gone was the frightened girl amidst the hordes of undead and monsters. Leon guessed that her experience in the city as well as her capture at Rockfort Island changed her for the better.

The only thing that had stayed the same about Claire was how she looked. Once again dressed like a biker, Claire was clad a black leather jacket. Various pins and logos were embedded on either of it's lapels. The words "_Heaven for Everyone_" was stitched across the back of it. There was a red bandanna knotted loosely around her neck and tucked underneath the collar of her jacket. She wore black shorts, which, in Leon's opinion, where a few inches too short. He caught himself staring at her thighs, and mentally slapped himself. She also had not one, but two large belts around her waist. One had a large square metal buckle, and was strapped firmly around her waist. The other had a circular buckle, and hung loosely at an angle, half sitting on her hips and half falling off. His eyes drifted briefly to her legs again before he forced them to stare into her deep blue eyes.

"So, what have you been up to in Washington?" Claire asked as she hooked her arm under his and gently pulled him out the door and towards the parking lot.

"Not much," he said. There wasn't much he _could_ say. "I'm working for the government, but you already know that."

"Doing what?" Claire pressed.

"I...can't really say," he admitted. "It's one of _those_ things," he finished, if that explained anything. Claire chuckled.

"Secret government conspiracy, huh? I won't press then, seeing that it's all classified and such..."

It was quite a walk to Claire's transportation. She said that she was lucky to get anything in the first lot, it was a busy day at the airport. On the way, they talked about everyday things to fill the gap: news, friends, and hobbies. The hijacking the previous day was at the top of the list. After a while, Claire announced that they were there. Leon was only half surprised to see a motorcycle. He knew that Claire biked, but he would have thought she would have brought a car to pick him up.

"We're taking a motorcycle?" Leon asked. Claire nodded.

"Yep." She tossed him a helmet before digging a fingerless gloved hand into the pocket of her jacket and procuring keys. She picked up her own helmet, which was covered in a crest of flames, and plunked down on the crimson bike.

Leon knew he would look ridiculous riding on the back of a motorcycle, let alone one driven by a girl younger than him. But what could he do? He plunked himself down on the rear seat behind Claire. Claire shifted to his form on the back and keyed the bike, then revved it up. She plunked her helmet on her head and flipped the visor down. Claire hit the throttle the bike's rear wheel spun on the pavement, leaving black track. Leon felt like he would fall off as the wheel caught on the pavement. He tucked his legs up on the side of the bike and held on to the side of the seats. He prayed Claire wouldn't buck him off.

Claire pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the street. She pulled onto the freeway and headed deeper into the city. Leon could tell that she was a little reckless, but otherwise held the bike amazingly well.

"_At least she's keeping it at the speed limit_."

Claire stayed in the right lane of the four lane street, so she wouldn't slow down any impatient commuters. Leon's helmet didn't have a visor, and the wind made his eyes tear. Looking through squinted eyes, he saw Claire's back, and the tip of her ponytail fluttering from under her helmet.

After a five minute drive on the freeway, Claire pulled off the next exit and back onto city streets. They pulled up to an intersection somewhere downtown with a red sedan behind them and a green jeep ahead of them.

"So how long have you guy's been here?" Leon called to Claire over the noise of traffic and the motorcycle. Claire had to yell through her helmet.

"It's just me and Chris. We decided to lay low after you guys started looking for us, so the others went their separate ways." The traffic light turned green.

"It wasn't _us_," said Leon, meaning the organization he worked for. If it was, the S.T.A.R.S would have been caught already. "It was just the FBI." And the CIA, and the NSA...

Claire drove down the next few blocks, then hung a right. She cut through several residential areas, then hit a busy intersection. She waited for her turn to enter at a stop light.

"I'll be renting a car," Leon said. Claire turned on the seat to look at him through her visor.

"Why?"

"Because I shouldn't have to be at the mercy of you and your motorcycle," he said, grinning. Claire peeled again out at the intersection and merged with the traffic when the light turned green. Once again, Leon felt like he was going to be thrown off. They drove down another few blocks, and Claire turned right again. A few streets later, she slowed the bike and Leon could see a block of apartments come into view.

Claire pressed a switch on the handlebars of her bike, and a garage door opened. She pulled into it and coasted to the very end, and pulled into the empty slot reserved for her in the basement parking garage. She cut the motor and dropped the kickstand. Leon hopped off and stripped off his helmet.

"Now," Claire said as she took her helmet off and shook her hair loose, "Do you have a problem with my driving?" Leon shook his head.

"I was kidding," he said. "Besides, I thought it might be a good idea to have a car in case I have to get somewhere in a hurry. My organization will cover it."

"Alright," she said, as if he was going to be sorry he did. She spread her arms wide, her helmet in one hand and keys in the other, and grinned. "The tour starts here. This is the garage."

"Thanks," Leon said dryly, "I noticed." Claire punched him in the shoulder and headed to the elevator. Claire was still playing tour guide ("This is the elevator...") as they got to the top floor. She keyed them into her and Chris's apartment.

"I know it's not much, but everything's there," she said as she tossed her helmet in the corner. She unzipped her coat. "Make yourself at home. I'm going to change."

"You mean you change clothes when you ride your bike?" Leon asked.

"Of course," Claire replied. "You have to dress properly in front of a lady." She swept her arm out and her voice dripped with a snobby British accent. By lady, Leon figured she meant her bike.

"_I guess she _really _likes motorcycles_."

Claire disappeared into her room, and Leon sat himself on the living room's couch. He unzipped his own coat and tossed it over the arm of it. He contemplated taking off his shoulder hoslter, but then he decided that he'd rather not leave his sidearm laying around.

Leon looked around the apartment from his seat. Despite what Claire had said, it was pretty nice. It was clean, much cleaner than his own. He wondered if it was Claire or Chris that kept it so, or maybe a mix of the two. The living room had a pale white carpet and matching walls. The couch that Leon sat on was brown, and made of some non-expensive material. There was an old coffee table in front of him that had seen it's share of spills, and a standard TV beyond it on the far wall. The living room had a small kitchen built into the side, with a counter jutting separating the two, acting as a table. Only a few dishes were stacked in the sink. The Redfield's had a standard sized refrigerator, a microwave, and even a coffee maker.

Claire was either taking her time changing, or struggling to remove the combat boots she always wore.

"_Probably the latter,_" Leon thought to himself, amused. No sooner did he think it, then she emerged, now wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and now barefoot. She sighed as soon as she saw his gun.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked.

"It's standard attire, I have a license, and my line of work can be fairly dangerous, so yes," Leon deduced. His eyes narrowed. "What about you? You're situation isn't exactly a picnic. Chris told me all about the things that happened."

"We're pretty well equipped," Claire said. "I've got a Remy 870 under my bed and a Beretta in my sock drawer. Chris has a Glock in his nightstand. There were times earlier when we needed them, but so far, we haven't had to use them since we moved here."

"_So much for being worried about leaving a gun lying around._"

"Hope it stays that way," he said. Leon noticed that she had a laptop case in her hand. "What's that?" Claire gave it a shake.

"Well, I figured you'd want to hit this right away," she said, sitting next to him on the couch, and setting the case on the coffee table. "This is something we found in North Dakota. We found a hidden Umbrella facility there. It wasn't a massive complex like the ones in Raccoon or Alaska. It was just a small place for gathering and interpolating data." She unzipped the case and opened the laptop inside.

Leon's interest perked up. He leaned forward and watched as the computer warmed up. Claire continued to talk.

"The place was abandoned, no surprises there. For the most part, it was picked clean of information. But, either someone hid this little guy, or forgot to pick him up. We found it tucked away in an air vent." The computer's desktop loaded, and Claire swept her finger across the mouse pad and opened a folder. Inside were a dozen files. Claire opened one, and Leon read the document.

It detailed something called the Matriarch Virus, also known as the M-Virus ("real original," Claire said). It was discovered, Leon read, when the T-Virus was exposed to a certain amount of gamma radiation. The mutagenic virus mutated itself and became a new virus.

"Wow," Leon breathed, "They have another one of these types of viruses?" As if the T-Virus and G-Virus weren't bad enough. Claire nodded grimly.

"It looks like it." She opened a new file. This one was full of pictures and diagrams. Some were pictures of microscopic organisms labeled T-Virus; others were labeled M-Virus. Leon had admitted that he was no scientist, but even he could pick out the differences. The very shape of the viruses were different, and whatever Umbrella had used to highlight differences in the DNA or RNA core of it made it very obvious that things were off. There weren't many changes, but there were enough.

"Are there any pictures of the virus?" Leon asked, "As if it were in storage?" Claire nodded and browsed through the pictures. Near the end was a picture of three vials, labeled M-1, M-2, and M-3. They all glowed a dull orange. Leon recognized it immediately.

"I don't believe it," he breathed.

"What?" Claire asked, confused.

"You know that plane hijacking that happened yesterday?" Claire shrugged.

"Yeah, special forces stormed in, shot everyone up," she said, not following where he was going. Leon felt that he could trust Claire with the info. She and her friends were now being supported by the government after all.

"That was my organization," he said. "I was there. The hijackers' virus threat was real. What we recovered was one of those vials." Claire was surprised.

"Really? Wow...Looks like you're into some pretty heavy stuff." She turned to look at the three vials in the picture. "There was a file in here that said there were only three samples made. Something about the radiation procedure being very touchy and complex..." It was Leon's turn to be surprised.

"Really? Then there's only two more of those things out there. Does this computer have any experiment data or what this stuff can do?" Claire shook her head.

"No, it only says what it is and how it was made."

"I see." Leon said slowly, thinking. "What about where it's stored?" Claire shook her head. "Well, I'll take a thorough look through everything while I'm here. Do you mind if I take this back with me?" Claire shook her head again.

"No, go ahead. You guys will probably be able to use it better. Besides," she added, "We've got it backed up on an external hard drive. Rebecca hasn't had the chance to look at it yet." Her features darkened. "I just hope that you can find the rest of this virus soon. None of us had heard of this stuff anywhere. It kind of sounds like a new supervirus, like the G-Virus. And if it's half as bad as that..."

"You think Wesker is going to be looking for it," Leon finished for her.

"Bingo."

"Where's the backup?" Leon asked curiously. Claire smiled.

"Chris said that the fewer people that know about it the better," she said. "I've got it tucked away." She reached over and shut the laptop.

"What're you doing?" asked Leon. Claire beamed at him

"Enough work." she said, getting to her feet. "Let's order a pizza!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

A pre-recorded video was playing on large flat screen monitor. It depicted a microscopic series of events: a virus latched onto a cell, then discharged it's core of ribonucleic acid into it. The empty protein coat that composed most of the virus floated away, and the RNA strands began to mingle with the cell's DNA. The video went into a time lapse. Hours changed to minutes. Over a short period, the cell mutated, then replicated the virus within it's membrane hundreds of times over. The cell stretched then burst as the numbers of new viral organisms increased beyond critical mass and were released into the host body. The lower left corner of the video was labeled **Test 64-5: M-Virus infection rate**.

"_A speedy little thing, aren't you?_"

Albert Wesker pushed his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose. He stood, alone, in a darkened room in the bowels of an underground complex. The monitor showing the video had a cable running from it to a computer on a desk next to it. Wesker would much rather stand and watch a big screen than sit and stare at the tiny computer monitor. It didn't have quite the same effect.

The video switched to a different cell, undergoing the same process of infection. Wesker paused the video, bored with seeing elementary concepts that he was well past. Even a child could explain the replication process from memory. He was more interested in what happened inside the cells, right before the replication process.

He typed a few commands into the computer, and the video switched to a closeup of a cell as it was infected. The video was captioned **cell development. **Once again time lapsed, the video depicted the growth a new mitochondrion within the cell after the cell's newly programmed DNA had destroyed the original. After a few seconds, hours in real time, the mitochondrion grew to full maturity. As a cell's source of power, its purpose was to regulate the cell's metabolism.

"_Interesting...it's more developed than the Tyrant Virus's._"

The mitochondrion, was indeed larger and more mature than the sample's of the T-Virus he had seen a thousand times previously. After a few more minutes of time lapsed footage, the cell began to replicate more of the virus, then disintegrated as the cell burst from the replication process. The new viruses that were released spread and latched onto more cells, once again beginning the process over.

"_The better the body's mitochondria, the more energy released. More of that energy will be sent to the brain. In addition to the lower brain functions becoming more active, higher ones will also begin to turn on._"

A side by side comparison of the video between the Tyrant and Matriarch Virus's showed that the Matriarch Virus caused faster decomposition in the host than the Tyrant. Since the M-Virus infected faster, more cells would be destroyed to replicate the virus faster. This is what caused the quick decomposition of the host.

But, as a result of the developed mitochondira, the virus would create a stronger, more intelligent bioweapon. The accelerated process of mitosis that replicated the virus and destroyed host cells would prevent the carrier from being active for too long due to the accelerated necrosis, but a shorter lifespan meant a lower risk of an accidental outbreak.

"_I'm liking it better by the minute._"

By itself, the virus had amazing properties. Simply deploying it on a battlefield would be satisfactory, but Wesker could hardly wait until he could start researching it. He looked forward to the hours and hours of tedious gene splicing and picking the virus's RNA apart. Once they removed the replicating codes, they could possibly create a more stable virus by splicing it to other ones.

The only thing that annoyed Wesker was the fact that the data he had was incomplete, and that he didn't even have the virus. Sure, he had all the miraculous test data and experiment results, but all of that was nothing if he didn't have the virus itself. All he knew was that the M-Virus was developed from the T-Virus. For the first time, his organization couldn't work from the Progenitor Virus. This was something derived from a derivant, one which Wesker had no idea, despite his intelligence, how to manipulate. He knew there were existing samples out there somewhere. Where else would the test data have come from? If they had a sample, which Wesker was currently looking into, they might be able to backwards engineer it, but even that was unlikely. They _needed _to know how to create it from scratch.

Wesker's brow furrowed slightly as he thought. He felt like a child being deprived of a new toy that he deserved. To be honest, he was sick of working with the T-Virus, and it would be years before the organization could create another sample of the G-Virus from Birkin's tissue sample that Ada retrieved in Raccoon City. The T-Veronica Virus was also a dead end. The single strain in their possession simply died from unknown causes.

Wesker flipped the lights on and turned off the computer. They had retrieved it from an Umbrella data storage facility in Colorado. He knew of several other ones in North Dakota, Utah, and Kansas. He had personally visited them all in the last week, searching for any more information of the M-Virus. All of them had nothing useful in them. With the exception of the one in Kansas, they had already been emptied.

One thing still picked in his mind. The Kansas facility was sealed. No one had been there in a while, and all data stores were intact. Utah was empty, but like Kansas, showed no trace of intrusion for several months. The North Dakota facility, however, had been disturbed quite recently. Whoever it was left no evidence behind of who they were, but Wesker already had an idea.

"_Are you trying to stay one step ahead of me, Chris?_" he thought, then shook his head slowly. "_No, you have no clue to my plans...Just dumb luck, I guess._" Luck was something that Chris Redfield had an ample supply of, and it irritated Wesker greatly. "_But you did remove something from that place. I just know it..._" The North Dakota facility was empty, but there was a loose section of a wall that had been torn away. Something was definitely hidden there. It nagged too greatly for Wesker to just let it go.

He brushed the sleeve of his black blazer up and looked at his watch. Ada wasn't due to check back for another six hours. He turned the now blank screen off and left the room. He turned right at the door and strolled to the elevator. He called it, then stepped in. He pressed the button **12, **which was in the middle of the panel. The facility had twenty or so floors, all of them underground. It was just one of the many that the organization used as a base.

Wesker stepped off the elevator once it arrived it's destination on the 12th level. Level 12 was the security station. Compared to the labs on the upper levels and the storage rooms on the lower levels, it was quite small, only consisting of a few hallways and rooms. Wesker pressed the panel on the side of the door labeled **Surveillance**, and the door hissed open sideways. The room was full of monitors linked to the dozens of cameras placed in the complex. Three guards clad in black armor sat watching the various screens.

Through the monitors, Wesker saw the events of the facility. On the monitors that displayed the labs, dozens of scientists worked busily while guards hovered around with automatic weapons, watching carefully. In the sealed labs, scientists worked in protective suits. This time, the guards watched through glass observation windows. Other labs didn't have any guards watching the scientists. These were the organization's own men. The scientists being guarded were captured from Umbrella.

The other monitors should less interesting images: guards walking up and down empty halls on patrol, the mess hall, and the barracks.

One set of monitors always showed the B.O.W containment. Large steel cages kept the vicious MA-121 Hunters in check. Several stacked dog kennels held the skinned Rottweilers, dubbed Cerberuses. Along the far wall was the Ga7 Chimeras. They were a little more dangerous than the rest of the B.O.W's so they were kept further from the others. The entire room was kept dark, as to keep the creatures more docile, so the camera scoped the room through infrared.

Aside from the three guards glued to the monitors, there was a fourth guard, paging through files on a computer tablet. The red-haired man was the head of security for the facility, and just the man Wesker was looking for.

When Wesker entered the surveillance room, he faced Wesker and stood straight respectfully, and greeted him.

"Nothing to report sir," he stated, "other than a few scientists giving us trouble in lab 3."

Wesker absently stared at the monitors through his sunglasses. "Use whatever disciplinary methods it takes to bring them around," he said casually. "It doesn't matter, we won't be here much longer."

The head of security nodded. "Yes sir." He looked back to his tablet, as if he thought Wesker was finished.

"I have a task for you, Sergeant." The head of security's head snapped back up, a little surprised.

"Sir?"

"Ready your team. I need you to find one of the S.T.A.R.S. I have an idea as to where they might be..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Twenty-one!" someone called, and the table erupted in cheers. They overpowered the groans as people handed in their cards and as the brightly colored chips went to one excited person. Elsewhere, lights flashed and slot machines honked merry tunes as they ejected money into excited peoples hands. It was a standard night in a casino in the middle of Las Vegas. People were winning money and going broke at the same time. Men were dressed in tuxedos, women in full length gowns and dresses.

Ada Wong delicately flipped over her cards at the blackjack table she sat at.

"Twenty," she proclaimed. The dealer busted and she collected 2,000 dollars. More people around her cheered. Ada took a sip of her martini that was sitting in front of her on the green felt table and absently scooped up her chips with her other hand. For the last hour and a half, she had been sitting there, dropping cash and regaining it. She didn't care how much she lost or won; it was all just pocket change to her.

The real reason why the Asian woman sat at the table for as long as she did was for it's view. The dealer at her table never noticed that she never looked at him. Rather, she looked over his shoulder, at the group of people outside of the casino, and in the adjoining restaurant.

The casino was a large one, and not built into a hotel like many of the ones in Vegas were. Three quarters of the building was the money draining engine that fueled Sin City, and a the rest was a fancy restaurant, a place for people to take a break from spending money on gambling, and spend money on overpriced food. The entrance to the restaurant was simply a cut away section of the wall. There was no door, simply an abrupt change in scenery and ambiance.

Sitting near a table close to the entrance were two men. One wore a tuxedo and had two large men flanking either side of him. He had a decent build to him, like he had played football in the past, but never continued it. The other wore a black suit, was shorter and wasn't as solidly built, and looked like a slick businessman. He had only one man on his shoulder, dressed the exact same way. The man in the suit had to be the Umbrella executive selling the virus. That meant the larger man in the tux was the dealer.

Ada had been watching these men the entire time she was sitting and pretending to gamble, or, more precisely, watching the black armored case near the man in the black suit. She didn't have proof, but she was certain that all five men were armed.

Running a shiny French manicured nail thoughtfully below her crimson lips, Ada patiently waited for them to play out their own little game.

"_Hmmm...what's your next move_?" she thought slyly. "_When are you going to hand it off?_"

A week ago, after 'meeting' with a fleeing Umbrella employee, the organization discovered that his boss was selling off a virus to a weapon's dealer. He told them that they would be exchanging the virus in a Las Vegas casino. He parted with this knowledge freely, after being shot in the thigh and having a gun pressed to his head of course. Although he told them the date and location, the employee wasn't able to say what exactly was being sold. All he knew was that it was some untested virus that Umbrella never got to research properly.

The dealer at her blackjack table dealt another hand, and Ada place her bet. Five hundred dollars.

Wesker sent her to intercept the meeting. It sounded like the new virus he was chasing after, the Matriarch Virus was the strain being sold off. Ada didn't know anything about it, but Wesker was going over data of it nonstop. From what little the Umbrella employee told them, it sounded like it might the virus they were looking for.

Finally, the conversing men began to stand up. Ada quickly placed her next bet, the rest of her chips, and busted on purpose. The crowd around her groaned. She leaned forward and stuck the single chip she had left into the front pocket of the dealer's uniform.

"Thanks," she said, winking. She left the table and began walking towards the men. They were heading back into the casino. The shorter man in the black suit was still carrying the case. That must have meant they weren't ready to swap. He veered off towards the rear wall. The man in the tux and his bodyguards headed deeper into the casino.

Ada moved easily through the people in the casino. Although the atmosphere didn't suit her, the attire definitely did. Ada wore a plain black evening dress that fell to her ankles, held by two wire thin straps over her shoulders. The back of the dress sunk low, revealing her toned upper back. The neckline also sank low, giving the world a little more than a good look at her assets. Like many of her dresses, Ada's was slit up the side, all the way to her hip. Aside from being an eye catching fashion statement, it served the more useful purpose of allowing her to move freely if she needed too. Coupled with the thick choker covered in diamonds, her dangling diamond earing, eyeshadow and lipstick, she blended perfectly with the trendy surroundings.

In addition, Ada was fairly well equipped. Without even a purse to conceal things in, she had to carefully place everything on herself. On her left leg high up on her thigh was a small nylon holster. First and foremost, it carried her grapple gun, which was strapped on the inside of her thigh. Beneath that was a small Walther PPS with a tiny silencer, and a stiletto knife. Ada only had to be careful how she sat. Otherwise, the small arsenal on the inside of her leg was invisible.

The man in the suit she was tailing was heading for the bathroom. He entered the men's room while his guard stood outside.

"_Perfect._"

Ada smiled to herself. The bathrooms were right next to the door that led to the innards of the casino. Tucked in a small alcove (a hallway really), the men's was on the left, the women's on the right, and the staff door at the end.

The casino was covered with cameras and witnesses. Ada needed a secluded spot to swipe the virus. Her intention was to snatch it without anyone noticing and leave without incident.

She casually strolled past the Umbrella guard at the mouth of the alcove, shooting him a suggestive look. He followed with his eyes, but didn't turn to look as she walked past. Instead of entering the woman's room, Ada turned left and entered the men's quietly.

"_Time for a woman's touch._"

The Umbrella executive was washing his hands when Ada entered. Needless to say, he looked surprised as the woman walked straight up to him. Before he could voice his protest of her intrusion, she swept down on him and planted a deep kiss on him. She even worked her tongue in for good measure.

The shorter man was taken by surprise, but only for a few seconds. He began to return her favor.

Twisting her head, mimicking the act of passion, Ada opened one eye and saw the case at their feet. She felt the man's hands creeping lower down her back, obviously intended to grab her buttocks.

By then, the event that Ada was waiting for occurred. The bathroom door had a piston that would slow it's closing. Ada had noticed this when the man entered the bathroom. Finally, the piston allowed the door to shut all the way. As soon as Ada heard it thunk softly, she raised her knee swiftly into the groin of the man. His hands left her and went to his crotch. She drove her fist into his stomach, causing him to bend over and groan. As soon as he did, Ada drew her other knee up into his face, and her elbow down into the back of his skull. Both connected at the same time. The man collapsed with a clutter.

Ada plucked the case off the ground and propped it on the sink, then quickly opened it. Inside was a single glass vial filled with an orange liquid. She shut the case and picked it back up. She brushed a few loose strands of short black hair from her eyes and briefly looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her lipstick wasn't even smudged. She spat as she turned to the door.

"_Disgusting. The things that I do for him..._"

Ada intended to simply walk through the staff door and escape. She softly opened the door, but the guard seemed to have sensed trouble, and was waiting for her right in front of the door. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the throat with a thick hand.

"Going somewhere?" he asked her as he slammed her roughly into the wall next to the bathroom door. Ada grunted in discomfort, but before he could draw his gun, Ada smiled at him.

She swept her arm across his, striking it with her forearm. His elbow bent, and his fingers lost hold on her throat. She elbowed him in the face, then kicked as he stumbled away from her. Her foot came straight up and clipped him under the chin. He collapsed against the wall and fell over. Movement to Ada's right diverted her attention. Two casino security guards had spotted her as they passed just in time to see her drop the guard.

"Hey!" one yelled, and both began to advance on her.

"_Shit..._"

Ada turned and booked it through the staff entrance with the small case in tow. Even though she wore heels, she ran swiftly, a task that most woman couldn't accomplish in a lifetime. At the end of the hall she turned left at an T-intersection. Behind her, the door that led to the casino exploded and the two security guards rushed in as she turned the corner. Both wearing blue sport coats, khaki pants, and red ties, they looked right at place with the other people in the casino, but as they progressed further and further, the building lost it's classy atmosphere, and they began to look out of place. The guards followed Ada down the hall. One pushed the earpiece in his ear and spoke into a radio.

Ada turned another corner and ran past the money counter rooms. At the end of the hall, another security guard skidded in from another direction and began to run straight at her while yelling at her to halt. The way ahead of her blocked, Ada turned left and headed down a new hallway. In her head, she tried to remember the layout of the building.

"_Stairs, stairs...where are they?_"

She spotted them up ahead. Bursting through the door, she flew up the first flight. The door behind her opened again and the three guards rushed in, following her up the stairs. Ada climbed three more flights, where the stairs abruptly ended.

"_Dammit, I thought these went all the way up!_" Ada cursed to herself. Apparently, the casino didn't follow standard architecture. The building was 15 stories tall, and Ada was only on 4th floor. There had to be another staircase somewhere else. She left the stairwell with the guards still right behind her.

Running down the next hall and not even breathing hard, Ada passed several offices and what could have been locker rooms. People leaned out and stuck there heads outside to see what was the matter, only to be almost decapitated as the pursuing guards rushed past.

Dead ahead of her, Ada saw two elevators. One of the digital readouts said **1**, the other **11**. Ada saw her chance and skidded to a halt, then hit the call button as she almost collided with the wall. As the readout on one changed to **2, t**he guards caught up to her. One pulled a collapsable riot baton from his belt and extended it with the flick of his wrist. Ada reached into the slit of her dress and pulled on the handle of the little Walther.

She ducked as the baton swung for her shoulder. Turning as she did, she kicked at the second guard, and her high heel dug into the soft meat of his thigh. She followed up by sweeping her other leg across his shins, knocking him to the floor.

Her maneuvers ended with herself on the floor as well. The guard with the baton took another swing at her, this time aiming for her sternum. Sitting on her backside, supported by her hands, she raised her leg and caught the baton in the crook of her heel. She shoved it away, and rolled gracefully backwards as the third guard tried to dive on top of her.

Now on her feet, she readied the Walther in her grip. The baton guard swung again and this time, Ada simply blocked his arm with her gun hand. She coiled her arm around his and swept it away downwards. As she did, she squeezed the trigger.

_**P-thip!**_

The gun chirped and the bullet shot through his thigh. The man collapsed moaning in pain and holding his leg. The second guard tried to take a swipe at her. Ada ducked low and turned with him as he stumbled past.

_**P-thip!**_

She shot the second guard through the back of his calf. Like the first one, he fell down, holding his wound. By now, the third had just gotten to his feet.

_**P-thip!**_

Ada shot him in the thigh before he could even take a step towards her. As she incapacitated the final guard, the elevator doors opened, and a man, preoccupied with something he was reading had stepped out. He looked around at the bleeding security guards in surprise, then his expression changed to shock as he noticed the Asian woman and the gun she had leveled at his face. He opened his mouth. Ada spoke first.

"Ah!" she said quickly, "Not a word..."

The man's mouth closed. Ada got closer to the elevator and stuck her hand on the door, holding it open. The man scuttled up against the frame of it as she got closer. Definitely the nervous type, he wore a dress shirt and tie. The glasses he wore made him look like an accountant.

"_I'd feel a little bad if I didn't give him some compensation,_" Ada thought. She leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Good boy," she whispered, and pistol whipped him across the temple. He crumpled and fell away from the door. Ada let the doors close and hit **15** on the panel. She sighed and stuck the gun back into it's hidden holster on her leg, then brushed her bangs away from her forehead. She hadn't even let go of the black case during the scuffle with the guards.

"_What a bother_," she thought irritably to herself. With any luck, she could be out of here in five minutes. Ada turned in the elevator and saw a camera in the upper corner of it. "_So much for getting lucky in Vegas..._" She smiled sheepishly at it. No doubt security was already waiting for her. The doors opened.

Ada lunged out of the elevator and cartwheeled, sliding the virus case along the tiled floor. Her unique movement dazzled the six or seven or so guards waiting for her in a semicircle around the elevator. These weren't dressed up like the ones in the lower floors were. They were wearing standard uniforms and equipment.

Landing in their midst, she locked onto one near the hall which was acting as her escape route then spun and kicked. Her heel caught him across the face, and he slumped against the wall. They all tried to tackle her at once, but Ada had already gotten into the hallway. The corridor prevented them from getting two across.

Ada caught the wrists of two guards and held them. As long as she could keep two in front of her, the others would have problems getting around. Before they could grab her back, she let fly another kick behind her. It caught the remaining guard blocking the hall in the stomach. He went down, trying to get his wind back.

The way behind her now void of guards, Ada released her grip on the wrists of the two she held just as they tried to grab her back. She arched herself backwards and flipped on her hands like a gymnast. When she landed, she leaped backward and kicked as a guard took a swipe at her. Her kick caught him in the throat. As he stumbled, gasping from the point of her shoe on his trachea, he bumped into the guard next to him, setting him off balance.

Ada chopped the second guard on the side of the neck, then drove her palm into his face. The second guard collapsed, and a swift kick from Ada dropped the first. The three guards jostling behind them now advanced on her, anxious for their go at the woman.

Ada reached to her holster and cartwheeled again, pulling out her grapple gun as she did. She landed in between all three of them, then shoved the one closest to her. He backed up against the wall, and his arms rose to his side to absorb his impact, just like Ada predicted. Quick as lightening, she fired her gun, and the metal claw shot through the bicep of the guard and planted into the wall. He howled in pain as a blossom of red began to spread along the white of his uniform.

Ada swept the gun across the floor, trailing the cable attached to the muzzle of her gun along the floor. She cartwheeled a third time, past the two remaining guards. Landing on her feet, she pushed the trigger of the gun forward, and the cable retracted.

One guard was standing directly over the cable as it tightened. It came up between his legs and flung him into a spiral. As the cable tightened further, it clotheslined the remaining guard. He choked out as the cable assaulted his throat and swept him off his feet. The guard that the claw had pierced howled again as the metal object was ripped back through his arm. He collapsed to his knees as the cable rewound into the winch underneath Ada's gun. The claw and first inch of the cable were red with blood.

Ada collected the case from the floor and calmly walked to the window at the end of the hall and opened it, leaving the chaos behind her. She hopped up on the sill, balanced precariously on her high heels. She shot the grapple gun up into an overhanging bit of concrete roof. She turned around and saw that more guards had just poured out of the second elevator. They froze when they saw the pile of writhing men and herself perched on the window, dress fluttering like a cape in the wind. She puckered her lips and kissed at them, then stepped off the window sill.

The winch of the grapple gun whined continually as it let out more and more cable. Ada fell only a little slower than she normally would have unassisted. The fabric of her dress fluttered wildly up and around her as she sailed down. Looking past it, she saw the entrance of the casino coming closer rapidly. She pulled the trigger to retract the cable and the winch groaned in protest, but began to slow her down. Her dress didn't flap so wildly, then settled around her legs as she lightly touched down on the entry carpet of the casino entrance. Her elegant legs bent slightly as they absorbed her weight. The people coming in and out of the casino gasped in surprise. After all, she had simply fallen from the sky.

"Miss Wong?" a voice inquired. Ada looked at the driveway and saw that her limousine was waiting for her. The young blond girl in a black driver's uniform holding the door open for her was with the organization.

"Yes, thank you very much," she said smiling, then looked up. On the top floor, she could see several heads sticking out. The security guards.

Ada cocked the hammer of her gun back halfway and pressed the trigger, then released the hammer. The cable detached. She strutted to the limo and got into it. The blond girl shut the door behind her and walked around to the driver seat, started the engine, then pulled out of the casino's driveway.

Ada set her gun down on the plush leather seat beside her, then looked down at her hand and groaned. The expensive French manicured nail of her ring finger was chipped in half. She rolled her eyes in irritation. She could care less that people attacked and chased her, but Ada hated nothing more than the discomfort of something as small as a broken nail.

The visor that separated the drivers cabin from the passengers slid down. Ada saw the back of the tight bun of hair that the blond girl had under her cap.

"How was your evening, Miss Wong?" she said, as if to casually converse with her passenger. Ada sighed.

"It was alright," she said, smiling and playing along. "The men here are pretty rude. Not one offered to buy me a drink." She ran her hand over the black metal weaving of the armored case. "Do you have my personals?" she asked the driver.

The girl nodded, and without taking her eyes off the rode, stuck her arm into through the visor's gap and held a personal digital assistant out to Ada. She took it, and the visor slid back up.

Ada turned the PDA on. The screen indicated that it was connecting, then Wesker's face appeared on it.

"Well, I assume that you were successful?" he asked immediately, not even bothering to greet her.

"Yes," Ada replied. "I have the virus."

"Let me see it."

Ada opened the case on her lap, and turned her PDA's camera towards it, giving Wesker a clear view of it's contents. He chuckled.

"Excellent."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

After looking at the recovered computer for two days, Leon still didn't know too much about the M-Virus. It was just as Claire had said, the data was incomplete. He knew all about how to make the virus, and how to store it, but the computer had no information on what it could do.

The first day he was with Claire, he stayed up until 3:00 AM reading file after file. Claire offered him Chris's bed, ("the sheets were clean," she told him) but Leon opted to sleep on the couch.

The next day he spent on and off reading information, and just hanging out with Claire. If it hadn't been for the sporadic research he was doing, it would've seemed like they had normal lives. Spending time with Claire was something that Leon needed. She was just the thing to take his mind off of his job and mission.

After another day of researching the contents of the computer, he was no closer than what he learned back in Washington. It was almost maddening. Even worse, he worried about where the rest of the information was. Was it still waiting to be discovered in some forgotten lab or facility, or did Wesker already have it? And what about the virus samples he had seen in the picture? Leon's organization had recovered one sample, but where were the other ones? Were they destroyed because they were so dangerous, or were they sitting in the back of some refrigerator? These questions and even more leaking into his head, Leon decided to call it quits for now.

He closed the laptop and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He checked his watch.

"Hey Claire!" he called to her. She was in her room. "Do you want to go now?"

"Sure," she hollered back.

Having eaten pizza for the last two days, Leon finally goaded Claire into going out and having a real meal. They picked out a decent sit down restaurant, and Claire even decided to dress up just a bit. Leon was already set to go. His Sig Sauer was once again hidden, this time under a black short sleeved button up shirt.

He zipped up the laptop in it's case and stood up. This would be his last evening here. Leon's flight left later that night. After he and Claire got back, he would pick up his bag and the laptop, then drop off his rental car, which was currently parked out on the street. Claire would give him a ride back to the airport on her motorcycle.

Claire emerged from her room, wearing a pair of form fitting pair of designer jeans and a white short sleeve blouse buttoned up over a black shirt. Her hair was still in it's ponytail, and Leon saw that she still wore her combat boots, although mostly hidden under her jeans. They looked sensible enough, as long as they stayed covered.

"All set?" he asked her. She nodded.

"Let's go," she said.

Claire shut the lights off and locked the door behind them as they left. They took the elevator down to the first floor and left through the front door. Leon pressed the remote on his keychain as they walked out onto the sidewalk, and the doors to his white Saturn Astra unlocked; a 3 door sedan with a manual transmission.

After buckling up, Leon pulled out into traffic, and began to head to the restaurant.

"I wish you could stay longer," said Claire, sounding disappointed.

"Well, I'm sure we'll find time to spend together again," Leon said, a little distracted as he changed lanes. "Besides, the S.T.A.R.S will be working with us now, so I'm sure we'll see each other soon enough."

"I suppose...You're going to want to turn left here," Claire said. She knew the city better, so she was the navigator.

Leon pulled out of the residential area and began to head deeper into the city. It was only early early evening, and traffic was fairly light. Leon pulled up behind a dark blue SUV.

"Still nothing from Chris or the others?" he asked. Claire shook her head.

"No, not yet," she said, biting her lower lip. "That's not unnatural, but it still worries me."

"I've never met the guy personally, but he knows what he's doing," said Leon. "I'm sure he's fine. You've always spoken so highly of him."

"Yeah, I guess it's just me," Claire said. "Take the next right."

Leon pulled onto another street that was only slightly busier than the previous one. This street turned into an entrance for a freeway, which they then merged on. For a while, Leon or Claire didn't say anything as they drove down the freeway. Leon thought that maybe it was because he brought up Chris. He could tell that not knowing where he was made her nervous.

"Say, Claire," began Leon, "I've been thinking, what if-"

A credible impact to the rear of the car made Leon lurch against the steering wheel. Claire lurched forward too, but her seat belt caught her before she hit the dash. Leon looked in the rear view mirror for the source, then over his shoulder. There was a black SUV behind them, just inches from their bumper.

"Son of a bitch just rear ended me!" he exclaimed. He sighed, irritated. "This isn't even my car!" He began to pull over to the side of the road, doing the civil thing. He thought of how bad he was going to chew the driver out.

To Leon's surprise, the SUV swung into the lane next to them, began to speed up, and began pass them. Leon growled.

"What the hell?" Leon said, outraged. "The bastard's just going to try and drive away?"

The SUV was just along side them now. The entire vehicle had tinted windows, and Leon couldn't get a look at the driver. As it passed them, it decelerated until their speeds matched. The passenger window slid down a crack, and a black tube poked out.

Instinctively, Leon slammed on the brakes, once again sending him and Claire forward. Their seat belts caught them. Just as their car slowed, the tube sputtered, and a line of bullet holes traced from the car's frame to the hood along the left side, almost clipping the front tire. As Leon braked, the rear of his car backed into another. The car he hit honked angrily.

"Leon, what the hell?" Claire shouted. She hadn't noticed the gun in the car or the bullet holes. All she had noticed was that Leon seemed to have turned into a psychotic driver.

"We've got a problem," Leon said quickly, shifting gears and accelerating, prying the car off of the one behind them. "That SUV just took a shot at us." Claire's eyes widened.

"What?" she noticed the row of holes on the driver's side of the car. "Oh my God..."

With the SUV now blocking the way in front of them, Leon looked in one of the mirrors for a way out. He saw a black sedan creeping up on their left. It was following the same path of the SUV. It also had tinted windows.

"Shit. Claire, hold on!" Without hesitating, Claire grabbed the handle that hung over the door and braced her other arm on the dash.

Leon accelerated, then shifted gears, and cut across all four lanes of traffic before the sedan could box them in.. Once on the far side, he gunned the engine and shifted again. The sedan followed his move, and the SUV pulled right, and began to weave around cars trying in an effort to try and cut them off again.

Leon passed several cars, going well past the speed limit. The sedan stayed right behind him. All around them, cars honked their horns and pulled away from the mad drivers. The sedan pulled through a gap in some cars and pulled near Leon and Claire on the left side of their car. The rear window rolled down and an arm holding a suppressed pistol stuck out. The gunman fired, and the several shots passed through the rear windshield.

The windshield covered in spiderweb cracks but didn't break. Claire cried out as one of the rounds passed through the car frame near her. Leon swerved and almost lost control as he felt the gunshots pass through the car. He slammed into the side of a passing van, which almost spun out. The van recovered, and Leon's car slided off of it. The black sedan edged closer.

Leon hit the brakes and swerved the car left. The back end clipped the front end of the pursuing sedan. It buckled and hit the concrete barrier on the side of the freeway. A shower of sparks lanced out as the sedan was dragged across the rough concrete. It fell back, then sped up, trying to catch up with them.

Leon began to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt. He pulled at it after unbuttoning a few, and the rest of the buttons popped off. He reached inside his shirt and pulled out his Sig Sauer. Leon looked over his right shoulder and saw the SUV cutting across several lanes of traffic. The window rolled down again.

"Claire, get down!" Leon barked.

Claire fell forward and covered her head with her hands. Leon stuck his gun at the passenger window just as a spray of gunfire assaulted the rear of the car. The rear upholstery became shredded with bullet holes as the SUV's gunman let loose with an automatic weapon.

Leon fired through the passenger window, not bothering to lower it. The glass shattered, and Leon continued to fire through the open hole. The first three bullets struck the side front of the car. The forth and fifth came close to the driver's window, and the sixth, seventh and eight shots shattered one of the rear windows and plugged holes in the side of the car. Normally, Leon would have been more accurate, but driving a car going 90 in a crowed freeway while shooting a gun was not as easy as it was in the movies.

The SUV pulled back, slowing down into another car as it did. The car it hit spun out, where another car rammed it. Both cars spiraled out of control. Luckily the pedestrians behind them were able to slow down or avoid the accident altogether.

"Claire, I need you to shoot for me," Leon said while pressing the magazine release. He handed her the gun and procured a full magazine from his holster. Claire took it and loaded the gun.

"Gladly," she said. She seemed nervous, but she was on top of things.

Leon spotted the sign for the next exit off the freeway. They had to get off of it. There were too many innocent civilians that could be injured. Leon crossed two more lanes of traffic and sped up just as the sedan got back into shooting range. Leon passed two more cars and pulled into the right lane. The SUV pulled up into the shoulder and gunned it.

Claire leaned out the window the Leon's gun in both hands. She fired twice, the first shot ricocheting off the grill of the SUV. The second shot hit the right side of the windshield. The SUV drifted lazily, as if the driver had been hit, but then straightened. Claire continued to fire, and on her fifth shot clipped the front tire of the SUV.

The bulky vehicle swerved out of control and pulled to the right, hard. It flipped over and spiraled along the ground, the roof and sides becoming mangled as it skipped along the pavement. Glass and metal flew from it briefly before it slowly stopped and began to shrink in the distance. Claire laughed.

"Take that!" she yelled out the window.

"Jesus," Leon muttered in surprise.

"_When did she learn to shoot like that?_"

Leon took the exit off the freeway. Back on the freeway, the sedan shoved it's way across traffic, scraping roughly against cars. Leon blew through the red light at the end of the exit and and turned right. He almost collided with a minivan in the middle of the intersection.

Leon looked over his shoulder again, and didn't see the sedan following. With any luck it didn't make the exit off the freeway.

"I think we lost-"

-something hit the side of their car with incredible force. Just narrowly missing the driver's side door, another black SUV rammed the side of their car. It had come from another road perpendicular to them Leon and Claire almost knocked heads as they were flung violently about in their seats as the car spun wildly out of control. The side window exploded inward, showering them both with glass. The car finally came to a stop, and Leon shook his head, bits of glass falling out of his hair as he did.

The SUV was right in front of them in the intersection they were just crossing. The windows lowered, and Leon saw weapons. He grabbed the back of Claire's head and pulled her down along with himself as the windshield was peppered with bullets. Fiddling wildly with the clutch and gearshift, Leon floored the gas pedal and spun the wheel. The bullets ceased. Leon peeked up just in time to miss a streetlight. He got the car back under control and veered it onto the city street. The SUV pulled in after them, the teeth like grill on the front of it was a twisted mess of metal.

"Who are these guys?" Claire asked desperately, but Leon didn't have an answer for her. What he did know what that they were aiming for him, and not for Claire. Only the drivers half of the windshield was shredded from the volley of bullets. The passenger side was untouched, save for a few intruding spiderweb cracks. Leon leaned his head back against the now destroyed headrest. He could feel the innards of the seat against his back.

"I have a few ideas..." Leon said tersely, but he didn't want to say anything to upset Claire.

"_Wesker, for one,_" he thought to himself. "_But let's hope not_."

Leon shifted gears and accelerated. The SUV was right behind them. Claire fished the gun from the floor where it had fallen. She ran a hand through her hair and shook loose some glass. Leon turned left, and the car's tire's leaving a wide black arc as he power slid along the pavement.

The SUV followed them and began to close the gap between them. Claire aimed Leon's Sig Sauer and fired the magazine's last three rounds through the rear windshield. They hit the grill and hood of the pursuing SUV.

Leon got boxed in by two cars in front of him on the one way street. There was no way he could get around them. The sidewalk was too cluttered with various obstacles, not to mention people. The SUV began to nudge the rear corner of their car. Leon knew what they were trying to do. He himself learned to do it in training. Precision Intervention Tactic. They were trying to PIT the car out and put it into a spin.

Leon tried to force his way around the cars ahead of him, but they only responded with honks and began to slow down. The SUV nudged them again, and Leon's car got wedged between the two ahead of him. The two cars began to pull over to either side of the road. Leon shifted and began to accelerate between them. Before he could put more distance between them, the SUV succeeded in it's maneuver.

As Leon sped up, the SUV rammed the back corner of his car. He peeled out into a spin, and the SUV t-boned them on the passenger side, then sped up. Try as he might, Leon couldn't free the car from the skid.

"Leon!" screamed Claire. She pointed wildly across his nose. He looked out the broken window. They were being pushed directly into a city block's corner. It was some type of convenience store with a short set of stone steps leading up to it. Several people scattered left and right as the two cars hurled towards it.

There was a terrific crash and Leon hit his head, then lost consciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_"Shut up!" Leon yelled. "You're going to make it!"_

_The railing he was splayed over was digging up and under his ribcage and assaulting his diaphragm. He had to breathe heavily to get enough oxygen. His hand tightly clutched hers as she hung above the fathomless drop only by his grip._

_"It's too late Leon...We both know it."_

_Leon growled and felt a surge of strength. "No! I promised you we would escape," he said and tried to lift her body. His arm failed him and her weight pulled him back down onto the railing. "You just have to help me out here!" he pleaded. _

_He was trying everything in his power to save her, but for some reason, she did nothing. Her other arm stayed limp at her side, and she remained motionless. The blood gushing from the wound on her chest turned her red dress to an even darker shade of red._

_She looked up at him. "I really wanted to escape with you...escape from...everything..."_

_Leon knew it was coming, but he didn't want to believe it. If he didn't, it could never happen. But try as he might, he could already feel it happening. Though his hand was still gripped around hers like an iron vice, the sweat forming on it began to moisten the blood caked on it. Together, they made it deadly slick. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, her hand began to slide, until he could feel just her fingers crushed in his grip._

_"Goodbye..." she whispered, then fell._

Leon lost sight of her face. All he saw was black. He was no longer hanging over the railing in the Umbrella facility underneath Raccoon City. He was laying down in what felt like a bed. He slowly opened his eyes. At first, everything was white and fuzzy. He blinked, and the room came into focus. It was a hospital room painted in various shades of white, and sure enough, he was laying on a bed.

Leon groaned and lifted a hand to his head. He hadn't had a headache this bad since his unit had taken him out drinking when he was initiated. And the dream he'd had...he hadn't had it in a while, but it always lingered back from time to time. It was always the same few seconds, those seconds he'd rather not remember back in the horror of the city.

Leon rubbed his temple and felt the plastic heart rate monitor to his finger. All at once, he remembered how he got in the hospital.

"_There was shooting, and we crashed,_" he recalled. It all seemed so long ago, almost like another life. Leon's eyes widened. "_Claire!_" She wasn't in the room with him.

He sat straight up and groaned in pain. His ribs felt like they were on fire. Leon lifted the collar of the hospital gown he wore. His street clothes were folded neatly on the table next to his bed. The only thing that wasn't there was his gun and shoulder holster.

Leon looked down his hospital gown. There were a series of ugly looking welts running diagonally down his chest. His seatbelt. There were also strips of bandages wrapped tightly around his midsection. The pain kept Leon from moving further.

"_Ugh...must've cracked a few ribs,_" he thought through gritted teeth as he kept himself in a sitting position. "_Focus. Use the call button._"

He felt on the side of the bed and pulled out the bulky call button, then hit it. There was no confirmation if it worked or not. An agonizing minute later, a nurse entered and a doctor entered Leon's room.

"Ah, Mr. Kennedy," the doctor said. "You're awake."

"Where am I?" Leon demanded.

The doctor chortled. "You're in a hospital," he said. "I thought that would be obvious..." He waved the nurse out, and closed the door.

"You were in a rather nasty car crash," he said, looking a clipboard as he walked to the side of Leon's bed. "A hit and run I'm afraid. You hit your head pretty bad, but you've sustained no serious physical or mental injuries, other than a few bruised ribs." He wrote a few things down on the paper he was looking at.

"Where's Claire?" Leon asked quickly, not even listening, "The woman I was with?"

The doctor looked at him quizzically, as if he was thinking about revoking his diagnosis about Leon's mental health.

"You weren't with any woman when the paramedics found you," he said slowly. He pulled a penlight from his front pocket and waved it in front of Leon's eyes. "Mr. Kennedy, would you look at this please?"

Leon batted the light away from his face.

"_She wasn't with me when they found us?_" he thought with a growing sense of dread. "_Oh no..._"

"Listen," he argued, "I'm fine, but I need to know where she is. I flew in from Washington a couple days ago, and I've been with her since then. Her name is Claire Redfield, now where is she?"

"Mr. Kennedy, there's no reason to shout," the doctor said, "If you would just let me examine-"

The doctor didn't get a chance to finish. Leon reached up and roughly grabbed him by the collar, then dragged him down to eye level. The clipboard he was holding clattered to the floor. The doctor was now looking into the eyes of a very angry government operative.

"Listen to me _very_ closely," Leon said, trying to keep his voice calm. It came out in a low hiss. "Me and her were attacked today. Now she's missing, and her life could very well be in danger. She didn't just up and vanish, and she's not a figment of my imagination."

The doctor, his hands holding Leon's muscular arm at the wrist and elbow, looked very nervous.

"The paramedics weren't told anything," he said quickly. "They saw you in the crashed car, and got you here. It was the cops' job to get the details concerning the accident."

Now Leon was getting somewhere. He was still pissed at the doctor. Instead of jerking him around, he should have told him that to begin with.

"Okay, then I need to speak with the officers who were at the accident, and I need to speak with them _now,_" Leon said. "You have my background, right?" The doctor nodded. "Then you know that I'm a government agent. Now I don't want to come down on this place with the force of Washington, so _please_, just help me out."

He released the doctor, who stumbled back, the collar of his white coat and dress shirt crumpled. The doctor didn't bother to pick up the clipboard that had fallen next to Leon's bed. He quickly left the room, leaving Leon to brood with his bruised ribs.

"_This isn't good,_" he thought,and began to use the reasoning he learned in his training. "_Whoever attacked us knew where we were going to be, which means they're well organized. I didn't get a good look at their weapons, but they all had suppressors. Only high end equipment can be fitted for those._" Leon had already deduced that they were aiming for him when he was driving. "_I haven't made any recent enemies. Even Umbrella doesn't know much about me. Whoever it was took Claire._"

Leon wondered how lucky they had gotten. He had survived a car crash, but had Claire? What if they took her, only to find that she hit her head to hard or began to bleed internally? Leon shut that thought out of his head. She _was_ still alive. They wanted her, so if she was in critical condition, they would have made sure she would live.

"_Wesker, it has to be Wesker._" Leon thought. Nothing else made sense. There was no organization on earth that could match the kind of resources he saw. Unless, of course, it had been a foreign government. But all the countries that could pull that kind of stuff off were on friendly terms with the US. This wasn't some rag tag group of terrorists. No, it was Wesker alright.

The next hour was horrible for Leon. He was stuck in bed, and felt like Claire was slipping further and further away with every passing second. His head told him that it was possible that she wasn't abducted, but if she wasn't, she would have been waiting with him. If she was injured in the hospital, the paramedics would have picked her up.

After a while, he figured that the doctor he manhandled was simply going to sic hospital security on him. When a police officer came through the door, Leon was sure that was going to happen. But it didn't.

"You Kennedy?" he asked informally. The rather pudgy officer reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook. He looked like he had taken one too many donuts and too few runs on a treadmill. His head was balding, his brown hair was in a thick semicircle.

Leon confirmed his name.

The cop introduced himself. "I'm Officer Ryan. I responded to your accident."

Finally Leon felt like something was going right. It looked like he had shaken some sense into the physician.

"Okay, I'm looking for the woman who was with me," Leon said in one breath. Ryan held up a hand.

"Yeah, I got ya," he said, looking at his notes. "'Kay, we arrived at the scene, and only found you in the driver's seat unconscious. Right away, we could see that the car had been shot up. We followed standard procedure for witnesses while the paramedics showed up, but there weren't too many people at the scene."

"What'd they see?"

"A black sports utility vehicle and your car smashed into a building, the corner store on Franklin and 56th. Three people reported seeing men exit the black SUV and open the passenger side door." He turned the page to his notebook. "It happened fast, but two of the men carried an unconscious young woman about 5'5'' or 5'6'' in a white shirt into the SUV. She had brown, possibly red hair, and looked about 20 or younger."

Leon's heart sank. It was just as bad as he thought.

"_Shit._"

"Well, did anyone think to get a plate number?" Leon asked, a little angrily.

"Yes," Ryan replied, sounding annoyed, as if Leon was challenging his ability as a cop. "Two people coughed up the same plate number on the SUV. A third gave us a partial number on a third car at the scene, a black sedan that had substantial front end and side damage."

"And...?"

"We ran the plates, and this is where it gets weird," Ryan said. "The SUV's plate came up registered to a man with a wife and four kids. The car they own isn't even an SUV. The partial we eventually matched to an old lady who barely uses the VW that she owns. In other words, the plates on those cars were just copied and duplicated from somewhere else."

"_Copied plates?_" Leon thought, both surprised and impressed. "_I've never even heard of someone doing that._"

It sounded as if whoever attacked them simply picked license plate numbers on an initial recon of the city, then had them duplicated and placed on cars. By the time the trick would be discovered, they would be long gone.

Leon thought hard, then snapped his fingers.

"There was a third car," he said. "It was another SUV. It crashed on the freeway."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, we picked that one up on a separate call. There was no one inside of it when we got there."

"What about the license plate?"

"Came up registered to a 16 year old girl who just got a car for her birthday."

Leon slumped against his propped up bed. All the immediate leads he had were dead ends. He barely heard Ryan continuing to talk.

"We're treating this as a kidnapping. We'll contact you if we have anymore information. But before I go, I'd like to ask you some questions. Is that alright?" Leon didn't answer. "Mr. Kennedy?"

Leon was deep in thought. First things first, he had to get out of here, and get back to Washington. He'd get Colonel Evans to put the team to work. He'd get all the information the cops had, and start working from there. This was important. Claire had sensitive information to his assignment. Even his superior couldn't just write her off.

"No, I have to get going," Leon said awkwardly, swinging his legs out of bed, wincing at the pain in his ribs. They still hurt, but not quite as badly as when he first woke up. He plucked the heart rate monitor off his finger, and the machine it was hooked to began to flat line.

"Mr. Kennedy, I don't know what your relationship with that woman is, but just let us do our jobs, we'll find her."

"_No. Not with the resources here you won't,_" he thought grimly as he reached into his jeans sitting on the table next to his bed, feeling for his cell phone. He had to call Evans as soon as possible.

"_I'm not even sure if I can find her._"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Claire shifted in her sleep, curling into a tighter ball for warmth. She murmured to herself as the pleasant dream she was having began to slowly faded from her head. Not feeling ready to wake up, she rolled over lazily and her temple bounced roughly with cold metal. Her brow furrowed, sensing something was wrong. She couldn't remember where the metal came from. Why would she be lying on metal? Weren't she and Chris having dinner with Barry and his family?

Claire opened her eyes slowly, then blinked heavily. She was sure that she had opened her eyes, but why couldn't she see anything? Everything was pitch black. Claire reached to pull her blanket up over her. She was freezing. Her hand groped around near her waist, but didn't find anything. The only thing she felt was cold metal.

In a flash, Claire bolted upright, breathing fast.

"_Where am I?_" she thought, panicked. She suddenly remembered the car chase, the shooting, and the crash. She couldn't remember anything after that.

She looked wildly around, still unable to see anything but darkness. The rest of Claire's senses kicked in. She heard the sound of a single drop of water falling from a pipe every thirty seconds or so. Wherever she was was eerily quiet. Other than the pipe, the only sounds she heard was a faint hum coming from somewhere above her, and an unusual rustling sound every now and then.

Her nostrils flared and picked up a scent that Claire couldn't place right away. After a few more sniffs, it hit her. It smelled like...

"_A zoo._"

It was the scent of live animals, their leavings, and their food. It smelled worse than what Claire remembered as a child; it was stronger and more repulsive. She only briefly wondered why she smelled something like that.

Her eyes had finally drunk enough of the darkness. She could pick out the faint outline of the white blouse she wore. Away from her, across the room, glowed a dull red light. It hardly reached Claire.

She climbed to her feet. Her legs shook a bit, as if she had been in bed for a week. Standing in the darkness, she felt herself swoon. Her body didn't know which way was up. Claire huddled over and clutched her stomach with her arms.

"_Maybe I shouldn't have gotten up so fast,_" she thought as her stomach turned with nausea. The zoo-like smell wasn't helping. It passed in a short time.

Claire's eyes began to pick up more detail in her surroundings. The dull red light was segmented, as if there were bars in front of it. A could twitch of familiarity ran through Claire, it looked like she was in a prison cell. Her mind wandered momentarily to how her situation on Rockfort Island started.

A noise behind Claire made her jump. It wasn't loud, but the quiet room magnified it. It sounded like a throaty purr. Claire turned towards the noise, but didn't see anything.

"_What was that?_" she thought nervously.

She took a step towards the noise. The red light now seemed to give off more light than it first appeared to. Claire could faintly see a few red reflections ahead of her. More bars. Claire caught just the hint of movement in the light. She leaned forward ever so slightly and squinted hard. Something was definitely there.

A large, clawed hand shot through the bars and raked the air in front of Claire's face. A shrill scream pierced the darkness, followed by one of Claire's own. She leaped back from the razor claws and tripped on her own feet. With a dull clang, she fell against more bars.

Her chest heaving up and down from the scare, Claire looked back at the hand that was still pawing in the air. She couldn't make out the details of it, other than the fact that it's sharp claws almost took her face off. Whatever owned the hand was snarling viciously. More snarling joined the first, followed by the clicking purrs.

More hands shot through the bars Claire was leaning on and grabbed her. She screamed and flailed, expecting pain and her blood to spill across the floor. She broke free of the hands unharmed and backed away from the bars. Her shaky legs buckled, and she collapsed on the floor, sitting in between the clawed appendages and whatever grabbed her. Claire suddenly heard laughter.

"I guess I was wrong," a voice said. "She didn't even get a scratch."

"Huh," said another. "I was sure she was going to lose a few fingers."

Two flashlights turned on, bathing Claire in white light. She squinted and raised her hands, trying to shield her eyes from the source of the sudden burst of light. Claire looked to where some of the light was shining past her, and saw that the bars separated her and a cage full of Hunters. There were about a dozen of them packed into a cage. Now that she was visible, they all began to get worked up, hopping up and down madly while sticking arms through the bars.

Looking back at the source of the flashlights, Claire saw their owners. Two men were standing on the other side of the bars. One stood a full foot taller than the other. They were the ones that had grabbed her.

"Sorry Redfield," the tall one said, still chuckling. "I hope we didn't startle you too bad." Both of them laughed again.

Both anger and fear coursed through Claire. Eventually, Redfield anger won over feminine fear. Claire lunged to her feet and rushed forward at the two men and reached through the thick bars. They were too busy laughing to react. Claire grabbed the clothes of the taller one in both hands, then pulled back, slamming him into the metal bars. Both of their flashlights bobbed, and Claire briefly lost sight of them. There was a metallic bang, which Claire hope was the man's face, and a grunt of pain.

"Hey!" the short guy yelled. He raised his flashlight at Claire. She then realized that it was attached to a gun in his hands. She could see the black metal reflected in the light, but couldn't make out the model of it.

The man Claire grabbed had dropped his flashlight. It's beam shot across the floor and left a path of light. The light illuminated the toes of Claire's boots and the talons of the scrabbling Hunters behind her. The short man shined his, gun and all, at his companion. He was holding his face, just like Claire hoped.

"You okay?" the injured man's friend asked, holding his shoulder. The man that Claire had grabbed was doubled over, with a hand clutched over face.

The tall man launched himself at the bars, reaching for Claire through them. She had already backed away beyond his and the Hunters' grasp. She raised her hands in a 'come and get me' pose, and smirked.

"Little bitch!" the man yelled, reaching through the bars like other creatures.

Behind Claire, the Hunters became active again as they witnessed the action, like spectators at a fight. More screams began to emanate from the pack as they jumped up and down wildly.

The man's friend grabbed him roughly and tried to pull him away from the bars.

"Hey, HEY!" he yelled. "Chill! Remember our orders. You want to screw it up because she snuck in a cheap shot? Besides," he added, "you're getting everything riled up!"

Along with the Hunters, Claire heard a variety of bizarre noises from the darkness: loud insect like buzzing and scraping, familiar dog barking, and what sounded like the excited hoot of a pack of monkeys.

The man who Claire hurt shook off his friend, then picked up his flashlight and glared at her. The second spoke into a radio at his shoulder.

"Open'r up."

There was the sound of a lock being released, and the bars in front of Claire slid to the side. The two men entered her cell. The one with the gun in his hands leveled it at her. Claire apprehensively watched the scowling man she just banged into the door as he approached her. She couldn't back up, lest she be torn to pieces by the eager Hunters. The man grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and tugged her in the direction of the open door. Claire moved reluctantly.

Once outside the cell, the second man opened a door that led to a dark hall. They marched her through this one into another which had it's lights on. Claire blinked rapidly as her eyes readjusted back into light. The man with the gun stayed a few paces back, ready to act if she tried anything funny. The second man was always right behind her, occasionally giving her a push when she didn't walk fast enough

They hadn't identified themselves, but Claire was familiar with the type of outfits they wore. They both wore solid black, with unmarked body armor. The short man's gun was a sleek looking submachine gun. Even in the light, Claire didn't recognize the model, but it looked high end, definitely not second rate.

"_It's got to be Wesker's group,_" she thought as she was escorted down the hall. "_Their gear gives it away. And who else would have a bunch of mutants lying around?_"

The tall man still had his hand clamped on her shoulder. She wrenched it free, and promptly received a shove on the back of her head.

"I know how to walk, asshole," Claire snarled at him.

They led her to an elevator. After all three of them crammed into the elevator, the man with the gun pressed the number **17**. Claire eyed the panel that had the floors on it. There were 23 total. They were currently on 22.

A short, silent ride up, and the men escorted Claire down another hall. They stopped outside a door and the short man opened it. Claire noticed that several of the doors they passed were electronic. There was a pad on the side of those, and they had pistons built into the side of them. This one, however, was the regular kind with a manual latch and hinges. The tall man shoved Claire into the room. The only pieces of furniture were two chairs and a small table.

"Hands," the tall one commanded. He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

"Make me," Claire retorted. She wasn't going to assist them in restraining her.

There was a metallic clack as the short man behind Claire pulled the cocking lever of his submachine back, chambering a round into the barrel. Claire didn't bat an eye, but her heart skipped a beat.

"You want one in the back of the leg?" the man behind her threatened.

Claire fixed her eyes on the one with the cuffs. She didn't even think of turning around. "You wouldn't dare."

"A bullet right through the meat of the calf hurts like hell," he explained, "and it's non fatal. Well within our orders. Try me."

Pursing her lips together, Claire weighed her chances, then slowly lifted her wrists up. The man clipped the cuffs on tight. He abruptly pushed Claire into one of the chairs, and she fell down awkwardly, almost missing it completely.

Any thoughts of retaliation soon left Claire as the second man began to drape something cold and heavy over her lap and around her arms and waist. Chains. Not the type on a dog leash, either. They were heavy stainless steel links. After wrapping the links four times around her, the man locked what sounded like a padlock at the back of the chair.

The two men left without saying anything more. As soon as the door closed behind them, Claire pulled at the chains with all her might. All she got was a metallic rattle and a dozen pinches on her bare arms from the connecting links. The metal was wrapped around her upper arms at the crook of her elbows and her midsection, securing her arms to her body, and her body to the chair. Her wrists, handcuffed, could do little more than sit on her lap. She could manage to move her forearms almost up to her chest, but no more.

Clare was left alone for a few minutes. As long as no one was around, she pulled against the chains, hoping that there might be a weak link somewhere. Eventually, she grew fatigued from straining against the links around her, and sat panting lightly in them. She gripped one of the metal cuffs and tried to wiggle her hand loose. Despite her efforts, she could only get it to the lower bones of her hand, where her thumb halted it's progress.

Cursing out loud, Claire gave one last thrash at the chains, then sighed in defeat. She wasn't going anywhere.

The door opened, and Claire looked up and her nose and brow furrowed in disgust at the person entering the room.

"I figured it would be you," she said, every word dripping with loathing.

Wesker gave the tiniest smile and shut the door behind him. Claire had never seen him dressed like he was. Back on Rockfort and Antarctica, he was wearing a soldiers uniform and gear. Now, he was dressed more civilly in a black blazer with matching pants and shirt. He even had the right pair of shoes to go with them, and of course, his usual pair of black sunglasses.

"Well that makes one of us," he replied, "I don't know how you feel about surprises," he said, walking over to the second chair, then pulling it in front of her and sitting, "but I rather dislike them." He cocked his head and crossed his leg over his other, then drew his hands to his lap. Claire saw herself in his sunglasses. "Except in this case."

Claire laughed. "What? Expecting something else?" she asked sardonically. "Honestly, Wesker, you've grabbed me so many times now, I'd swear that you had a thing for me."

Claire longed to reach out and drive her fist into Wesker's calm face, to crumple the black shades that he always wore, but she wasn't exactly mobile in her current state. All she had was her voice.

Wesker's face didn't change expression. "Hm. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you're not my type." Claire laughed again.

"Oh? And just what is your type, Albert Wesker?" Wesker leaned back in his chair and raised his interlocked fingers to his chest. His eyebrows raised above his shades, as if he was looking up and recalling information, and Claire swore she saw the smallest grin from his lips.

"Tall, long blond hair, and equally attractive as she is smart."

Claire was taken aback. She hadn't expected a straightforward answer, and his calm, emotionless face masked if his answer was false or true.

"_It's his damn glasses!_"

If he had looked her in the eye and said it, she could have told. Claire opened her mouth, then shut it, unsure of what to say after the conversation had taken a bizarre turn. Wesker seemed to sense this too, and kept going on the topic.

"There was a rather remarkable woman named Ellen Smith. She graduated at the top of her class, had a Ph.d, and was a top researcher at the Umbrella lab in the Spencer mansion." Wesker tapped his thumbs together. Like with his sunglasses, he always seem to wear black gloves. "Dr. Smith had the most extraordinary set of legs..."

"So what happened after she turned you down?" Claire asked mockingly. Wesker's thumb's stopped moving.

"I shot her twice in the head."

Once again, Wesker's sunglasses had masked if he was lying or telling the truth. This bit of info made Claire's stomach turn. Could Wesker have really killed a woman because she rejected him? Claire thought that there might be more to the story than Wesker was letting on, but she didn't want to find out.

"I'm...sorry to here that," she said dryly.

"Now, Dear Heart," Wesker said, referring to Claire by his pet name for her, "if we could change the subject from my love life to the reason why we are sitting here together..."

"Let me guess," Claire said irritably, "Chris."

Wesker chuckled.

"I'm afraid not. For once in my life, I am not interested in your miserable brother."

Claire was surprised. This wasn't about Chris? She felt a wave of relief. Wesker didn't know where Chris was, and that obviously meant that he didn't run into Chris while he was gone. The relief was suddenly replaced by a chilling fear. Chris would probably barge in here to rescue her, like always. Like always, it would be a trap.

"_Not about Chris my ass._"

"Well, like it or not, you're going to have to deal with him sooner or later, because-"

"Dear Heart," Wesker interrupted, "If your pathetic sibling was going to save you, he would have shown his face within the last two days."

Confusion shot across Claire's face.

"_Two days?_"

"I've been unconscious for two days?" Claire asked, alarmed. Had she been in a coma for the past 48 hours?

"It's not what you think," Wesker assured her. "I merely had you sedated, so you would behave until you arrived."

Claire looked down and saw a tiny circular Band Aid on her wrist where they must have stuck an IV into her. That explained why she woke up without a headache and in the middle of a dream. It also explained why her legs had felt weak.

"_If he's not after Chris, why did he target me and Leon?_"

"As I said," Wesker continued, "I dislike surprises. I had finally found the city where the rest of the S.T.A.R.S where supposedly hiding, and I had everything set to have Miss Chambers spirited away."

Wesker uncrossed his leg and folded his hands in his lap again.

"But what do I find? The S.T.A.R.S have relocated to separate areas, and Miss Chambers remains a ghost. So, rather than take the time to find her, I take the next best thing readily at my disposal: you." Wesker's face stayed glued to Claire's, but she felt his eyes leave him. "A pity as well. She's quite the genius, but I'm sure you know that."

Claire had been way off. Wesker wasn't even looking for her. He was after Rebecca, but Claire didn't know why. The only thing that Rebecca had over Claire besides experience, was the fact that she was a child prodigy. She graduated college at age _18_ with a degree in biochemistry. Claire graduated high school with a 3.0 grade point average, and for her, college was probably history.

"What do you want with Rebecca?" Claire asked Wesker straight up.

"Oh, we merely wanted some information and her cooperation in the development of a new project," Wesker said casually, as if he had already called her over the phone and gotten the voice mail.

"The Matriarch Virus," Claire blurted, then clamped her mouth shut and pursed her lips tightly.

"_Idiot!_" her conscience screamed at her.

Wesker smiled broadly and laughed slowly. It wasn't his usual chuckle or his broad cackle. It was slow and full of sinister mirth. She felt his eyes on her again.

"So, you _do _know about that. Good. It makes things all the more worthwhile."

Wesker leaned forward, balancing his chin on top of his interlocked fingers and leaning on his knees with his elbows. Claire involuntarily leaned back, trying to get as far away from him as she was allowed.

"Tell me, Dear Heart, have you ever been to North Dakota? I heard it's quite nice this time of year."

Claire didn't respond. She only focused on keeping her mouth glued shut. Her chin quivered a bit from the pressure she kept on it. She already slipped once, and that might have been too much already.

Claire felt like she had swallowed an icicle. Her skin grow hot, and she prayed that she wasn't blushing. She thought that she had kept a good grip on herself when she realized the situation she was in. Now, for some reason, she was starting to come apart at the seams.

Wesker's sunglasses stayed glued to Claire, and she could feel his eyes burning through her own. She felt as if they could see directly into her thoughts. She tore her eyes away from the black plastic and looked to the corner of the room, fearing that Wesker could read her mind.

"Your silence betrays you, Miss Redfield. I think you already know what you've set in motion. Chris and the others were in North Dakota. They took something from an Umbrella facility." Wesker didn't move from his perched stare at Claire. "I'm going to ask you straightforward: where is it?"

"I'm don't know anything about that," she said defiantly. "I wasn't even with Chris and the others," she added, trying to put up that she indeed was clueless.

"_The computer...Leon had to have taken it. Otherwise, Wesker wouldn't be asking for information. He has it, and it's safe in Washington where Wesker can't get it._" If he was still alive after they were attacked. "_No! He _is_ alive, and he and that laptop are both safe._"

"I don't think you appreciate how generous I am being, Claire..." Wesker began after she had refuted him.

"Generous?" Claire asked incredulously, "Abducting me and chaining me to a chair is your idea of _generous_?" She almost laughed again, if it wasn't for the fear that was making her gut wrench.

"Tell me, what's preventing me from simply forcing you to talk?" Wesker asked without emotion. "What's preventing me from doing the most unspeakable things known to man to you?"

Claire still didn't look at him.

"My question wasn't rhetorical, Dear Heart."

Claire wasn't about to argue with him. At the range he was sitting at, he could have killed her before she even had time to blink; probably even less, now that she was restrained.

"Nothing," she murmured, her voice shaking slightly. "Nothing's preventing you from doing anything."

"Precisely. But I warn you, like many things about me, my generosity has a limit..."

The computer was safe, but that didn't solve the problem of the backup. It was tucked away under a loose floorboard in Chris's room. Underneath the corner nightstand where he kept his Glock. But Wesker didn't know that. All he wanted was the computer. She could truthfully tell him that it was out of his reach, and that would be that. Claire still didn't know what would happen to herself if she told Wesker anything, but it was beyond her control. What was more important that Wesker didn't get the information on how to make the M-Virus.

"It's-" Claire began, but Wesker cut her off an extended finger.

"Look at me when you speak to me, Claire."

Claire kept her head turned away towards the corner, but her eyes darted nervously back to him. She forced herself to stare into the blankness of his sunglasses. She wasn't sure how she could handle trying to talk straight to his face. It was nerve racking.

"It's in Washington," she let out in one breath, "The government has it." She continued to stare at her reflection in the sunglasses, and bit the tip of her tongue. Would he believe her?

"Hm...disappointing," he said slowly after a moment of thought, still not moving. "Did Chris make a copy of it?"

Claire's eyes darted back to the corner. Her pulse quickened. She underestimated the way he thought. Claire forgot that Wesker had been Chris's captain. The man knew how her brother would think.

There was no way, no WAY she could tell him about the external hard drive under the floorboard in Chris's room. She stayed silent, but she doubted Wesker would take that as an answer. Claire's lower lip quivered; her condition was getting worse.

Claire suddenly felt fingers on her chin. Wesker had cupped her small chin with the crook of his index finger and thumb. He gently, but powerfully turned her head until she had no choice but to look at where his eyes were hidden. He drew her closer to himself, her upper body bending over the harsh metal restraints holding her. His face was inches from hers. She gasped softly, not expecting him to be so close. His fingers were ice cold. Quickly, she tried to halt her lip and mask her trembling from him.

"Claire..."

"No!" she squeaked. "he didn't!"

Wesker didn't let go of her chin and continued to peer at her.

"Claire," he said, absentmindedly. "Have I ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?"

Even more nervous and confused, Claire slowly shook her head a few inches to either side.

"They're even more beautiful when your iris's widen," he whispered. "You're lying..."

Claire let out a small squeak, partially out of surprise, the other part in horror. Her pupils had dilated, and he had noticed? Wesker released his hold on her chin, and Claire felt her skin get clammy. Wesker stood up and Claire jerked her head towards the floor as if she was fearing a strike. Instead, Wesker turned and headed to the door. He stopped before he reached it.

He took off his sunglasses and let them dangle in one hand. His other hand reached up to rub his eyes. Claire realized that she never got a good look at his eyes beyond his glasses. She had caught a brief glimpse of them, but only really knew what Chris told her. She realized that Wesker had probably done her a favor by keeping his glasses on.

Wesker sighed and put his sunglasses on, but kept his back to Claire. "I shall ask once more, and only once more: where is the information that I want?"

Claire continued to stare at the blank metal floor. She felt the choking feeling in her throat, and her vision blurred from the tears welling up in her eyes. No one needed to tell her of the contract she just signed, and what was probably going to come. Still, she gave him no answer. Wesker sighed again.

"Very well, Claire. You leave me no choice." He walked to the door and opened it. "Believe me or not when I say it, but I am sorry."

He left and shut the door behind him.

**Authors note:** Wesker's view on women is not my own. Neither is Ellen Smith. All credit is given to S.D Perry in her novel _Resident Evil: The Umbrella Conspiracy._ I encourage you to read it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Once she arrived back at the complex, Ada headed straight to the locker room to change. The underground facility was a bit drafty, and her thin dress did nothing to keep her warm. Toting the black case that had been glued to her hand the last seven hours, she pushed open a door on the fourth level.

She stripped off her dress, then put on more sensible clothes: black pants and a black tank top. Her top was short, and a sliver off midriff and her navel showed. Ditching her high heels in a spare locker, she pulled on black calf high boots. Ada sighed in relief as she stood back up. As much as she liked wearing heels, sometimes they could be a little uncomfortable. She turned her head to either side and removed the glittering earrings she wore, then placed them along with the thick diamond choker in a small box. After hanging her dress up neatly in the locker, she walked into the adjoining bathroom and removed her makeup.

Ada emerged from the locker room, still undoubtedly beautiful, but a bit toned down with the black armored case clutched in her hand. The only time it had left her possession was when she changed clothes. Otherwise, it was always in her grasp. She headed back to the elevator and took it to level 12. Wesker was sure to be lounging around somewhere there.

The elevator doors opened and Ada stepped out into the hall. A patrolling guard was just reaching the elevator as she left it. His FN P-90 was clutched lazily in his right hand, and his left in his pocket. He recognized Ada, but made no effort to acknowledge her. Pulling patrol duty on the security levels was possibly the most boring thing there was.

"Wesker?" she asked.

"Surveillance," the guard replied with his eyes half closed.

Ada walked past him and continued down the short hall. She pressed the pad outside of the surveillance room and walked in after the door hissed open, then shut behind her. Sure enough, Wesker was there watching some of the security monitors. He seemed to sense her presence and turned to her.

Ada held the case out, and Wesker took it from her. He cracked it open and looked at the orange vial inside, then smiled. Despite the fact that he had already seen it, his usually calm face showed a strange form of glee.

"A job well done, Miss Wong," Wesker said, giving her a rare compliment. Ada could tell he was looking forward to this. "You prove to be invaluable to this organization."

"Don't go and use it all at once," Ada said, smirking slightly. "You said there's not too much of this."

Wesker shut the case. "A problem that I will soon remedy."

"_Did he find the rest of the research data?_" Ada wondered.

As if something hinted at the answer, Ada looked to the security monitors. Half a dozen showed the same thing: a figure chained roughly to a chair. Ada looked closer, and saw that it was Claire Redfield.

Ada felt a slight twinge in her heart. The brave girl who she saw briefly in Raccoon City was futilely trying to pull her wrists free from handcuffs. Ada couldn't tell her features through the grainy black and white monitors, but her movements were panicked.

"What's this?" Ada asked casually, nodding to the monitors. "A new plaything?"

"Claire Redfield," said Wesker, stating what Ada already knew. "She knows where to find the other half of the M-Virus research. However, she's being quite stubborn in parting with the knowledge."

Ada had to watch what she said at this point.

"So what do you plan on doing with her?"

"I'm going to let Syrcher work it out for me."

Ada glanced back to the monitors that depicted the struggling girl, dread growing in her stomach.

"You're going to give her to Syrcher?" Ada asked. "Don't you think that's a little...cruel?"

Kennith Syrcher was one of the organization's operatives. Ada had only met him once, and that was enough. Syrcher was an accomplished interrogation specialist. There were some quite disturbing reports on his file. The man might have class and style, but he was just a sadistic animal, and Wesker was going to let him loose on the hapless girl.

"If you're concerned for her, you really shouldn't worry," Wesker dryly assured Ada, "Most might think of Syrcher as a rabid dog, but like all dogs, he can be domesticated. Redfield won't last long, she almost cracked when I was merely questioning her. Syrcher doesn't have any authorization to go to his usual...levels."

"And what about when her brother finds her missing?" Ada asked. "Aren't you worried that he'll storm the place?"

Wesker chuckled. "We have no idea where Chris is. Fortunately, he doesn't have any idea where Claire is either. I don't think we have to worry about him showing up."

Wesker took the case and left the surveillance room. Ada stared at the monitors that depicted the struggling Redfield.

"_That poor girl,_" she thought. "_That poor, poor girl._"

Ada admired Claire in several ways. Her resourcefulness was one of them. It kept her alive in Raccoon City. Ada even gave Claire the honor of being her competition as a woman with Leon Kennedy. Ada had been with him more, but she had sensed that he was always worried about the Redfield.

"_No one deserves something like that..._"

"How much longer before we move?" Ada asked one of the guards sitting at the control desk. He looked at a memo on the panel.

"Tomorrow, at 0900."

Ada sighed. Where was Claire's brother? Of all the times he needed to interfere with the organization's plans, it was now. He wasn't with her when she was taken. Now, he had no way of knowing that Claire was in distress.

Ada couldn't sit by and watch this unfold. She may work for Wesker, but she made her own rules from time to time. She owed Claire. She helped Leon escape from Raccoon City. To Ada, that was all that mattered.

Ada left the surveillance room and headed to the elevator. While she waited for it, she thought of what she was going to do. She couldn't directly help Claire, not without ending her own life. Chris was out of the equation, because the man had simply vanished. Ada sighed. There was only one person who could save Claire.

Unfortunately, contacting him would be hard. Outside of the organization, she was dead to the world. She could barely risk being out in public in some places.

Plus, there was no way that she could get the message out before what happened to Claire was over. Ada wasn't sure what Wesker was planning to do with her once he was finished with her. For all she knew, Wesker was going to simply kill the girl.

"_It doesn't matter. I have to do something._"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

As soon as the door closed behind Wesker, Claire let out a shuddering breath. It felt like she just dropped a hundred pounds of dead weight from her body.

"_What was that?_" she thought as she awkwardly tried to wipe her eyes clear with her shoulder. "_I've been near him before, but I've never fallen apart like that!_"

Claire figured it was her situation and everything riding on it. She had never in her life been under this kind of pressure. But she had kept the laptop's backup secret, even if Wesker knew she was lying.

_"I just don't know how long I can last._"

What was Wesker going to do with her? Claire was sure that he would have started to get more forceful with her, but instead he simply left. What made Claire even more nervous was the fact that he apologized.

"_It doesn't matter, I won't tell them anything!_" Claire vowed.

She re-doubled her efforts at escaping. The chains had left a dozen tiny red marks on her bare arms from pinch points. New ones began to form as Claire tried to find a way to get the chains off of her. She couldn't slide under them, and they were woven around the chair, so she couldn't stand and shake them off.

Claire abandoned the chains and tried to work on her cuffs again. If only Jill had taught her some lock picking skills. Something like this would have been no problem for the B/E specialist. Claire didn't even have anything to try and pick it with. She resorted to trying to slide her hand through the cuff, but like before, the metal band got stuck as her hand widened.

Claire's wrist began to chafe as she pulled the cuff on her right wrist. She gasped in pain as her thumb wrenched in it's socket as she gave the cuff a harsh tug. Frustrated, she hit her thighs, then angrily pulled against the metal chain holding the cuffs together, as if she was trying to break it apart.

"Fuck!" she said aloud and kicked out in anger. Why hadn't she resisted more? Getting shot in the leg seemed a lot better than what was going to come. At least she could have had a chance to fight back, maybe even get a weapon from them, then fight her way out of the complex. Now she had no chance of escaping. She settled by rubbing the red sore ring on her wrist.

The door to the room opened again, and Claire thought it was Wesker coming back to question her further. Instead of Wesker, it was an unfamiliar man. He was wearing the uniform of one of the guards, but he had removed his tactical vest, revealing just a shirt, also black. He still had a belt full of equipment, including a sidearm, which Claire eyed carefully. He wore wrist bands on both arms. His hair was cut in a standard military crew cut, but he sported a small goatee of brown stubble as well as a single golden ring in his left ear.

The man shut the door behind him and strolled into the room, closer to Claire. He didn't have Wesker's calm and collected face, or the half-assed stare of one of the guards. In fact, the only word Claire could think of to describe his face was content.

Claire swallowed hard as he swung a toolbox onto the small table. It wasn't anything special, just a rusted metal box with a loose latch. The man flipped the latch off, but didn't open the box

"Who're you?" Claire asked hoarsely. Her eyes left his gun, and looked apprehensively at the metal toolbox he set down.

The man smirked a little and leaned against the table. To Claire's dismay, he took his sidearm out of his holster and set it next to the toolbox, forever out of her reach. He folded his well toned arms across his chest.

"Claire Redfield... first let me say that it is both and honor and a pleasure to meet you," he said. "My name is Kennith Syrcher. I'll be entertaining you during your stay with us." His smiled broadened. "You can call me Ken."

"_Entertaining?_ _What's this guy's problem?_" Claire's pulse quickened.

"Mr. Wesker told me that you had something you wanted to tell us," Syrcher said, sounding like a gossiping teen. "Would you care to divulge?"

Claire didn't open her mouth. She didn't even look at him. Instead, she stared straight ahead. This thug wasn't going to get any information from her. Claire began to steel herself for what might come. She imagined her brother's voice in her head.

_Be strong Claire. _

She relaxed, but only a little. Imagining his voice and actually hearing it were very different.

"I guess not," Syrcher said, not sounding disappointed. He pushed off the table and began to walk slowly around Claire. Her eyes trailed his feet as they crossed in front of her. After passing twice, he stopped behind her.

"It's been a long time since I've had someone so pretty in my care," he said. "and so well behaved."

Behind her, Claire heard a familiar and frightening sound. It was the sound of metal sliding against leather. The drawing of a knife. The second the sound hit her ears, Claire began to lose her nerve. She previously pictured several horrible scenarios in her head and swore that she would be strong. But when it actually began to occur, Claire discovered that there was a big difference between her imagination, and what she could feel.

"_Oh God, please don't let this happen,_" she prayed.

Claire closed her eyes tight and tried not to whimper. There was an agonizing pause; Claire waited for something, anything. There was suddenly the sensation of cold metal being drawn quickly across her cheek. Claire gasped and opened her eyes. Her hands shot up from her lap and reached for her cheek. She desperately wanted to feel that her skin was still there, but her bindings only clacked as they held her hands just short.

Syrcher laughed. "Scared ya, huh?"

Claire forced her hands back to her lap, where they trembled. He was playing with her. The precision of his knife was eerily high. He had scraped the blade across her cheek, but hadn't so much as left a scrape.

Claire felt the cold metal again and shut her eyes as she saw the point of the knife in her peripheral vision. This time, the metal was slowly drawn against her other cheek. Claire didn't even dare to move. She could feel and hear the blade scraping across her flesh. It was as if he was shaving her like a barber would. This time, Claire did whimper.

"_It doesn't matter,_" she repeated silently "_You can't give him anything. Not a word!_"

"Like I said, you are definitely one of my more attractive subjects." Claire felt the blade enter the base of her ponytail. "But I think you'd look a lot better with your hair loose."

With a snick, the knife cut the elastic band that held her hair back. Claire's brown hair fell loose to her shoulders. Syrcher lifted a few locks with the flat of the blade as to test it's weight, then let it fall. He combed the knife through her hair, until it lay spread across her shoulders and back.

"Much better."

With terror spreading through every vein in her body, Claire desperately tried to blink back tears. She knew what he was doing. He was molding her, like an sculptor would mold clay. Just before he began to carve it.

Syrcher walked to Claire's front, twirling his knife absently around his fingers. Claire couldn't bear to look at him and turned her head away as he came into view.

"That's a lovely blouse you have on as well," he complimented her. "It doesn't look too expensive, but it still highlights your features nicely."

Claire felt the point of the knife touch the upper end of her sternum through her shirt. She gasped again as she felt it whisk dangerously close to her skin. Syrcher cut off the first button on her blouse. He snipped the next one down as well, opening the collar of her blouse more and revealing the shirt she wore underneath.

With his foot, Syrcher spun the chair that Wesker had sat on around. He drew it close to Claire's side and sat down backwards on it, with his arms resting on the back of it. Before Claire turned her head away, she saw his knife and his face.

Syrcher's knife was nothing special, just the type of combat knife that professionals used. It had a blade on one side and a set of serrations along the back. The knife scared Claire enough, but Syrcher's face was worse. He was smiling.

"I'm sure you and me will both have fun, Claire," he said. "I take good care of my guests."

Claire felt his hand slide over to the inside of her thigh and she screamed then buckled in the chair. The chair slid a few inches. The metal on metal screech it made was deafened by Claire's own. Syrcher withdrew his hand, laughing.

"Just kidding," he said through laughs. "I'm not that kind of person."

Claire breathed hard, her breaths shuddering in and out. She had begun to cry silently. This whole time she was wrong. This guy wasn't just a thug, a mindless drone who wanted violence. He knew how to manipulate her as well; that made him even more dangerous.

"But, unfortunately for us both, some people don't appreciate my kind of art," Syrcher said dejectedly. "Wesker put a few...limitations on my techniques. But that doesn't mean...look at me, Claire."

He gently stuck the point of the knife into one of Claire's nostrils, and gently turned her head with it. Claire had no choice but to turn with it or risk being cut.

"Look at me." Claire locked her watering eyes on his face, now emotionless. "That doesn't mean that I won't do what I can to get what I want."

The knife point left Claire's nose and swept under her chin, terribly close to her vital artery. Ever so gently, Syrcher drew the point up her throat, over her adam's apple, and up to just below her chin.

Claire tipped her head back let out a choking sob as she felt the point climb up her neck, the sound of skin follicles being scraped away seemed to be audible in her ears. She whimpered as the knife's point pressed a little harder than usual against the soft flesh under her chin.

Feeling the blade that close to her throat finally made Claire realize the gravity of the situation. She was all alone. There was no one that could come in and save her. Not Chris, Jill, Barry, or Rebecca. They wouldn't barge in at the last minute, guns blazing. Jill wouldn't pick the locks of her restraints, and they wouldn't escape. Claire was left to the mercy of this psychopath.

"One last time before I get serious," Syrcher said. "Tell me."

Claire gave another sob and remained silent. She felt like she just condemned herself. Mercifully, the cold point vanished, and Claire let her head fall back down. Some of her hair trailed over her shoulder, a feeling that she wasn't used to.

Syrcher nodded, almost thoughtfully, and tapped his knife against his bicep. He seemed to be thinking. He shifted the knife from his right hand to his left, where it began to tap his thigh. He nodded again, then slid the knife back into it's sheath.

Syrcher struck Claire across the face in a backhanded slap without warning. Her head turned and she cried out in pain and surprise. Syrcher stood up and roughly shoved the chair out of his way with a kick. He gripped Claire's chin, not at all gently, and turned her head. Some of her hair had fallen over her face from the blow, layers of brown hiding one streaming eye. He struck her again, this time on the other cheek, again with the back of his hand.

Claire's head jerked to the side, and she began to sob harder as now both of her cheeks flamed with pain.

Syrcher drew his hand back again for another strike.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The last day and a half was one of Leon's worst (topping that list was Raccoon City). He had left the hospital and contacted Colonel Evans. Leon wasn't sure how his superior would take the recent events. He couldn't exactly see his face over the phone, and Evans' voice didn't sound that upset. He just gave a semi-irritable sounding sigh, then ordered Leon to retrieve the information that Claire had been holding and report back to HQ.

Leon's rental fee for his car was already taken care of. The car was completely totaled, riddled with dozens of bullet holes and smashed to hell. He opted to take a taxi back to Claire's apartment. After a knock on the landlord's door and a wave of his I.D, Leon was once again standing inside her apartment.

He sincerely hoped that Chris would be back, but no such luck. The apartment was empty and just as they had left it. Whoever attacked them didn't come to take the laptop. Leon didn't know why.

"_Maybe too many witnesses?_" Leon thought as he picked up the laptop case, then unzipped it partway to confirm it's contents. "_Or maybe they just didn't know where she lived. I dunno_."

At any rate, Leon now held the data on the Matriarch Virus securely in his hands. One thing still bothered him though. It was what Claire had said.

_I've got it tucked away._

There was still a copy of this computer's contents. Claire never told Leon where it was. It could be in the apartment for all he knew.

"_Or it could be in a rented locker downtown, or halfway across the globe._"

Leon wouldn't have time to sweep every nook and cranny of the place. If Chris and Claire wanted something hidden, it would probably stay that way. The only thing he could do now is get back as fast as possible and start to find out where Claire was taken. He gave the landlord a brief message on his way out.

"Make sure this place stays locked down tight."

The landlord gave him a small roll of his eyes. The whole thing sounded stupid. He let Leon into Claire's apartment because of his I.D, even if at first he didn't believe that it was real. He still didn't really believe Leon, but at the same time, he didn't want to risk even a remote chance that the situation _was_ real. The last thing he wanted was to get roped into the FBI's business.

Leon left the apartment complex and went back to where his cab was waiting for him on the street. The driver merged with traffic and started to head to the airport. Leon flexed his hand on the laptop case's handle and checked his watch. Evans said that he sent the organization's private plane to pick him up. It would be arriving shortly.

When the taxi reached the airport, Leon's phone rang. The plane had arrived. He wouldn't even have to weed through security. The taxi dropped him off at a gate in the fence that surrounded the tarmac. Leon tossed the driver his fare, not bothering to wait for change, then grabbed his duffel bag and the laptop case. Airport security let him through the gate. Up ahead, Leon saw the organization's plane. It was a small, sleek looking private jet.

It took a lot of Leon's willpower to not run to the boarding stairs. It would have made him look like an idiot, among other things. He forced himself to walk, quickly. He hated to lose time with something so trivial as walking, but he had to stay calm. If he panicked, he wouldn't be any good to anyone, especially Claire. He at least allowed himself to jog casually up the boarding steps into the airplane's cabin.

As soon as he was on board, the plane taxied onto the runway and took off. Leon briefly wondered how much their actions interfered with the airports schedule. How many planes would be late in taking off and landing because they spent ten minutes on the ground?

The flight was shorter than Leon's commercial flight, but even for him, it wasn't fast enough. He wanted nothing more than to start picking apart the information from the police. There had to be some clue as to who took Claire and where they went.

"_There's nothing you can do right now, so settle down!_" Leon thought. He just noticed that he was gripping his left knee rather tightly. "_Just wait until you get back._" Leon loosened his death grip and stared out the window, watching the clouds pass as the plane ascended higher into the atmosphere.

The plane landed in Washington D.C, and the organization was waiting for him with a ride. It was one of the same SUV's that Leon had ridden in on his first mission. The vehicle took him straight to HQ. Toting his duffel bag over his shoulder and the case in his hand, Leon headed straight to the organizations wing in the FBI building. After getting off the elevator, he made a b-line for Evans. Leon knocked at the door, and his superior's voice bid him entry. He shut the door behind him.

Evans was seated at his own cluttered desk, typing on his laptop. He stopped when Leon entered. He shut his computer and turned his direct attention on his rookie.

"Okay Kennedy," he said, "What do you got?"

Leon let his duffel bag fall from his shoulder near the door, then hoisted the laptop onto the front of Evans' desk.

"Information regarding a new type of virus called the Matriarch Virus, sir," he reported. "This is what the S.T.A.R.S found in North Dakota."

"Let me guess. That's the same stuff we picked up on the plane?"

Leon nodded. "Yes, sir. The information details that there were three samples, and only three samples made."

Evans waved his hand, as if he didn't care. "Enough of that, we can get to that later. What happened to Redfield? I read the police report and heard a little from you, but I want to hear the whole thing start to finish."

Leon retold the story, from when he landed at the airport, to each day that he spent with Claire. Every so often, Evans' would interject and ask a question to clarify things. Leon retold the story of the attack in detail, everything down to the last shot fired, and where it landed.

"Did you get a make of the weapons?" Evans asked.

"No sir. All I could see were their suppressors. Without seeing the police report, I would guess nine millimeter, maybe forty-five. I made out one pistol, but there was also automatic gunfire."

"What about a look at their faces?"

Leon shook his head. "Tinted windows. None of them opened enough to get a clear look."

Evans sighed and leaned back in his computer chair. He folded one arm across his stomach, and propped his elbow on it, placing his index finger against his temple.

"So much for preliminary analysis," he muttered to himself. To Leon he asked, "Why do you think they abducted Redfield?"

"Well, the most obvious reason is because she had the information," Leon said, patting the laptop case. "She also told me that they made a backup of it."

"Do you know where it is?" Evans asked.

"No sir," Leon admitted. "She wouldn't tell me."

"Hmmm..." Evans said, thinking aloud. "Lets assume that if she was kidnapped for information, then they'll be looking for this computer. Hopefully, nothing will bring up the fact about a backup."

This bit of deduction made Leon very nervous. If Evans was right, that meant there would be interrogation. He couldn't even imagine what Claire could be feeling. Now he felt even more helpless. He almost missed it when Evans spoke next.

"...I want you to know that I was going to take you off this assignment-" he began.

"I hope you reconsider, sir," Leon said quickly. He wanted nothing more in the world to find Claire, and he was planning to do whatever it took. Going rogue was not how he wanted to do things after just getting into this organization. Evans raised a hand, as if to acknowledge something.

"I have, Kennedy. We brought you in for your experience, and it would be stupid on my part _not_ to put you on. You'll have the rest of us working with you too. Cullen is already going through the police reports."

Leon breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you sir."

"Well anyways, I was going to take you off because of your relation with Redfield."

"My relation, sir?"

"Yes, I can tell you care about her."

Damn right he cared about her. They had survived a living hell together, and both of them owed each other their lives. Claire was closer to him than a little sister, than best friend. He wasn't sure if his feelings for her went beyond that, or if she thought that of him. Either way, Leon definitely cared about her.

"Yes sir, I do."

"I just didn't want that to interfere with your performance."

"_Well that's going to be tough._" Leon thought grimly. How could he not let his emotions affect him with something like this?

"It won't sir."

"Good," Evans said. "You're dismissed Kennedy. I'll have a look at what's on this thing. Any information from the police will be directly forwarded to all of us."

"Yes sir, thank you sir." Leon left Evans' office, picking up his bag on the way out. He headed back to his own office. When he got there, the light was on, and he saw the arc of Cullen's back through the doorway. It looked like she was actually working for once.

When Leon entered, she tugged her headphones out of her ears.

"Hey Leon, you're back!" she said, trying to sound casual. Leon heard the strain in her voice. She knew what happened. A quick glance to her computer showed Leon one of the police reports.

Of course, when Leon left to go see Claire, Cullen was all over it. She was going on about love letters and old flings until he left her still laughing in the office. Now it seemed that she was embarrassed that she had acted so childish. Either that, or she felt guilty that she made fun of him, and now the whole situation had turned sour.

"Hey," Leon greeted her, trying to sound casual as well.

He dropped his bag and took his seat at his desk, then logged onto the network. The police reports were already in his email's inbox. He opened a few, but there was really no new information. The stuff the cop had told him gave him more insight than what he read.

The minutes turned to hours, the sun began to sink lower in the horizon until it disappeared completely. The day was winding down, and Leon still sat at his desk, trying to piece things together. A few more reports came in. They were some preliminary forensic results. Some bullets were retrieved from the rental car. They were a mix of nine millimeter and .45 ACP rounds. Dozens of rounds were retrieved, mostly from near the driver's side of the car. Leon didn't find anything useful from the bullets. Any civilian could buy them in any type of sporting goods store.

Eventually, Cullen packed up her things and began to leave. Leon didn't look at her, but felt her pause, as if she was going to say something.

"Bye," she said quickly. Leon only lifted a hand and waved.

The knot that Leon had felt in his gut all day had returned. He was getting nowhere. Claire had been missing for a full 24 hours now. If Evans theory was right, that was already to long. Leon had no idea what was happening to Claire, or if she was even okay.

Leon worked through the night, combing through reports and evidence, never leaving his office. Eventually, around 3 or 4 in the morning, he nodded with his head next to his computer. He woke up two hours later, very sore and still tired. When Cullen returned at 7, Leon was still sifting through reports and referencing sources online and in the bureau's database.

"Leon, have you been here all night?" she asked him, noting the heaviness of his eyes

"Yeah," he said just as a jaw breaking yawn interrupted him. "I'm fine."

Cullen paused again, as if she was going to say something, then sat down at her desk. The two of them worked in silence for the next few hours. Finally, Leon got the forensic report on the totaled SUV that Claire shot on the freeway in his inbox. Of all the evidence that there was, this is what Leon had been waiting for.

He clicked through the first few pages of the electronic mail.

"_Fingerprints...no trace._" There were none on the steering wheel, dash, or anywhere else in the car. Leon clicked ahead.

"_Shell casings recovered...There were only a few inside the interior. Several more were found scattered on the freeway behind it. It looked like most were picked up by the assailants. All the brand names and identification numbers were scratched off. Once again, no trace of fingerprints._"

There was only a little bit of the report left. It was about the make and model of the car.

"_The car was a Ford Explorer, black, with tinted windows, license plates were fake and copied. Serial identification was fake, no trace of fingerprints, no trace of DNA samples, no trace...no trace...no trace..._"

"Dammit!"

Leon slammed his fist down on the synthetic material of his desk. The plastic and metal dented under the force of his hand, his desk lamp rattled. He heard Cullen jump after the bang.

"Leon!" she said, sounding surprised, apprehensive, and mad at the same time. She got out of her chair and shut the office door. Leon clasped his hand to his forehead and gripped his bangs in frustration.

"There's nothing...we have NOTHING!" he said angrily. He was seconds away from throwing his laptop to the ground in frustration. He felt Cullen's hands on his shoulders, firm yet gentle.

"Ease up," she soothed, "take it easy."

"Sorry, but I can't!" Leon said loudly. How could he take it easy at a time like this? "One of my best friends just got abducted, with me right next to her. Now, we have no idea where she is. Right now, she could be dead, or worse. And the worst thing?" Leon let go of his bangs and ran his hand down his face. His eyes felt clammy.

"That girl's brother...Chris... is going to come back from wherever the hell he is. And he's going to find out that he'll never see his sister again. All because I fucked up when I was with her..."

Cullen's hands tightened on his shoulders, almost lovingly.

"Leon, please don't be so hard on yourself. You did the best you could."

Leon really didn't want to hear the cliché motivational speech. He just stared at the dent he made in his desk, with his fist against his cheek. He wished that staring at it would somehow give him a clue to Claire's location. Cullen gently massaged his shoulders. Leon found it quite soothing.

"Just please try to relax," she said softly. "I know it looks bleak now, but please, don't give up. As soon as you do, that's when you really will lose her."

Leon sighed horribly. He agreed with her, as much as he hated to admit it. He had almost snapped. As soon as he lost it, Claire would be as good as dead. He reached up and felt her hand.

"Thanks, Allana," he said quietly, using her first name, which no one usually did. "You're right. I guess I'm just a little strung out. Sorry for lashing out like that."

She patted him on the shoulder. "No problem, I've had my share of outbursts, just ask everyone else. And don't worry, things have a way of changing. You don't know when things will take a turn." She sat back down at her desk. "Now why don't you go take a nap. You could use it."

"Thanks I will," Leon said and ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it from when he gripped it.

Leon left his office and headed to the break room. It had a decent couch in it, and catching up on some sleep wouldn't be that hard. He walked down the hall and passed the wall of mailboxes, then realized he hadn't checked his mail in a few days. Cullen wouldn't have taken anything with his name on it. He keyed it open, expecting to find several letters.

To his surprise, it was empty, save for a small square envelope. He pulled it out and relocked the mailbox, then looked at the envelope. It was almost blank. Only his name was on the front, in a long feminine cursive script. No return address, or even a sending address, just **Leon Kenned****y**. He frowned.

"_How did this even find me?_" he thought. It had to have been from somewhere in the office. Otherwise, the mail screeners would have just chucked it. He opened it, expecting it to be some half assed prank.

Instead there was a folded piece of paper. He smoothed it out and read it. It was written in the same alluring, feminine script.

**You can still save her. She's being held here:**

** 1°44'41.08"S, 78° 9'1.89"W**

**You don't have long.**

Leon was bewildered by the note. It wasn't signed with a name. Instead, there were two crimson lip prints where someone had kissed the note.

"What...the...hell?" Leon said aloud. He read it twice over again.

"_'You can still save her?' Could this be...?_"

Leon hardly dared to hope. The odds were impossible. There was no way, _no way_ that this note could be about Claire. But who else could it be about? The questions began to race through Leon's head. Why had Leon received this note? Was there a traitor in the group that took Claire? Who was _she?_ (obviously a woman). Where did the coordinates lead to? What if this was a trap?

Before Leon had even begun to think of any answers, he found himself outside Evans' office. He didn't even remember beginning to walk. Not even bothering to knock on his superior's door, he hurriedly barged in.

Evans was taking a sip from a mug. He almost spit out the contents when Leon entered.

"Kennedy, what the hell?" he asked in surprise. "I thought I always told you to-"

Leon interrupted him by slamming the note on his desk.

"Found her."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"Unnh..._fuck_!" Claire half sobbed, half snarled through gritted teeth.

Syrcher smacked Claire across the face for what felt like the hundredth time. For the better part of an hour, he had been slapping her across the face. To Claire, it was an eternity. Her brain felt like jelly, and both of her cheeks were bright red and chapped. Her loose hair was getting more and more disheveled as her head was whipped back and forth. There was always a part of it that hung over her eyes. Despite all this, Syrcher hadn't done anything else to her. He had initially scared the pants off Claire with his threatening and fancy knife play, but did nothing beyond slapping her. He had openly admitted to Claire that Wesker didn't want him to do certain things to her, but didn't elaborate.

Initially, Claire had been sobbing uncontrollably once the punishment started. As she slowly pieced the situation together, her weeping subsided. She could tell that if Syrcher was going to doing anything else to her, he would have already. He had grown fiercer since the interrogation started, but Claire sensed it was out of frustration rather than intimidation.

"_I can do this!_" Claire told herself as she panted. "_If all he's going to do is throttle me around, bring it on!_"

Claire felt Syrcher's hand roughly grab her throat and twist her head so she looked at him.

"Listen, Claire. I know that we both don't like this, so how about you just tell me what I want to know, and we'll call it quits?"

Claire looked at him through squinted, streaming eyes. The few tears she had now were from the almost unbearable stinging pain in her cheeks and the frustrating anger she was generating to cope with the pain. In fact, she was _very_ angry.

Claire jerked her head and freed herself from his grip. As she turned away, she felt her saliva building in her mouth. She gave her head another brief jerk, clearing her matted hair from her face, then lunged back towards Syrcher, letting fly a massive ball of spit. It landed on his cheek, just below his right eye.

Syrcher jerked upright, clearing the saliva from his face with the back of his hand. Claire briefly regretted that she didn't have time to add the contents of her running nose to the discharge. Syrcher didn't outwardly express any surprise or disgust, but Claire saw a peculiar twitch run from one eyebrow to the other.

Behind him, Claire heard the room's door open.

Syrcher drew his hand back past his ear. His hand, in a tight fist, not an open palm, locked onto her face. Claire turned her head away and braced herself as his punch launched, now wishing that she hadn't done something so impulsive. But the blow never came. She cautiously looked back.

Syrcher's hand was still clenched in a fist, hovering half a foot in front of Claire's face. A gloved hand was clenched around his wrist, holding it firmly in place. Claire followed the arm to it's owner. It was Wesker.

"What did I say?" asked Wesker, his sunglasses locked onto Syrcher, who was now very nervous. He was visibly trying to pull his arm free, but Wesker didn't move so much as an inch. Wesker continued without waiting to hear an answer.

"Didn't I tell you there was to be no disfiguring actions?" Wesker began to turn his wrist, forcing Syrcher's arm to bend at the elbow. Syrcher gritted his teeth. Claire could tell that he really didn't like being on this side of Wesker.

"Yes, you did," Syrcher said through gritted teeth.

Wesker released his hold on him, and Syrcher immediately took two steps back, then nervously ran a hand under his nose, then wiped at the spot where Claire spit on him. Wesker now turned his attention to Claire.

"I do apologize for that, Dear Heart," he drolled, "but sometimes even a trained dog can bite." Syrcher scowled at his remark as he rubbed his wrist.

Claire was grateful for this intermission, even if it was Wesker. Her entire face felt like it was dipped into boiling water. If her luck continued, maybe he would try to scare the answer out of her again. This time, she would be ready for it.

Wesker cupped her chin and lifted her face.

"Now, would you care to tell me anything?" Wesker asked her.

"_The bastard just won't give up._"

"Go to hell!" Claire snapped, her face contorted in fury and discomfort.

Wesker dropped her chin and pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. His expression didn't change.

"Do you remember what I said about my generosity, Claire?" he said as he turned and strolled back towards the door. "My limit has just been reached."

Wesker paused at the table and he opened Syrcher's toolbox. He picked something out of it and tossed it to Syrcher, who caught it easily in his left hand. It was a lineman's pliers.

"Same rules: start slow."

Claire's bravado dissolved instantly. Once again, she had underestimated Wesker. She was wrong to think that he wouldn't use a harsher method when the gentler one failed. He had been willing to give her a chance, but he wasn't about to just let her continue to hold onto the knowledge. Now, the gloves were off.

Syrcher advanced on Claire, looking like he did when she first saw him: content. He clicked the pliers menacingly. Claire flailed her legs and tried to push against the floor, trying to put any distance between her and the steel jaws. The metal chair she was chained to moved an inch.

"No...don't you even TOUCH me!" she screamed.

Wesker turned back to the door. "Report to me when she talks."

Just as he left the doorway, he heard tearing fabric: the sound of Syrcher ripping the sleeves of Claire's blouse and shirt underneath it. He didn't even break stride when he heard her cry out again, this time pleading.

"No...NO..._please!_"

He shut the door behind him and headed to the elevator. He had gotten three steps when a bloodcurdling scream flowed through the door and echoed down the hall. After he stepped inside the elevator, another one emanated and was cut short as the doors closed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The helicopter's roaring blades were dulled by the headphones that Leon wore. He had been riding in the sage green UH-72 Lakota for the past hour. His drop off point was about 10 minutes away. He unzipped a duffel bag and began to check his equipment.

The whole thing had sounded fishy to Evans. Nevertheless, he ran the cryptic note through all the proper channels. The latitude and longitude scrawled on the note was entered into a GPS. Leon had felt a sense of anxiety as he watched the computer's crosshairs begin to sweep across the computer generated globe. The computer locked onto the coordinates: smack dab in the middle of a jungle in Ecuador.

Leon could hardly believe that was where Claire was being held. It was a hilly area of the rainforest, virtually untouched by civilization. Still, with no other leads, it was the _only_ place Claire could be. Despite this breakthrough, Evans was still not convinced.

_"We could be walking straight into a trap," he had said. "Why the hell would they tell us Redfield's location?"_

Leon didn't have an answer for him. To be honest, he had thought of the same thing.

_"But why would they want to bait us?" Leon had asked. "We don't have anything useful to them, other than the research data. But it's not like we'd drag that with us. If they wanted it, they would demand it, or ransom her for it."_

Leon pulled an HK USP from the duffel bag. It was a tactical model, with a precision laser sight mounted to the sight rail beneath the barrel. The barrel was threaded for a suppressor, though he wasn't going to be using one. Waving the muzzle of the gun in front of his hand, he tested the laser sight. He pulled the slide back, and chambered a .45 round into the barrel. He stuck it into his shoulder harness along with two spare magazines.

_"The team's ready," Evans had said, "Get set to move out in one hour."_

_Leon swallowed hard. "Sir, I think it would be better if we sent one operative in."_

_"You want to go in alone?" Evans didn't bother asking Leon if he was volunteering. He knew he was._

_"I just think that sneaking one man in would be easier than a whole team. I get in, find her, and get her out before anyone knows I'm there."_

_"Kennedy, you're just a rookie...you have one official mission under your belt."_

_"Yes sir, I am aware of that. But I can handle this sir, I know I can."_

_Evans saw the look in his rookie's eyes. He wasn't going to budge. Regardless, he still thought it over carefully. He knew that Leon was capable. More than capable._

_"Alright. You can go in solo. The rest of us will back you up if it goes to hell."_

Leon dug into the duffel bag again and pulled out a small weapon case. He opened it and pulled out the Mini-Uzi inside of it. This would be a sneaking mission, and Leon couldn't be burdened with a typical weapon. If things did get hairy, the Uzi would be his firepower. He unfolded the thin metal shoulder stock from the side of the weapon and raised it. Pleased with how it sat, he loaded the 32 round magazine in, then took two spares and slid them into the holders on his belt. He refolded the shoulder stock and slung the submachine gun across the small of his back.

_"We'll all fly to Ecuador," Evans had said. "You and a bird will head to the site. It'll drop you off, and you'll have twelve hours to locate and extract Redfield. If we don't hear from you in twelve, we're coming in."_

"Two minutes," crackled a voice in his ear, the pilot's. It was none other than Stark, who raided the plane with Leon earlier that week.

Leon leaned out of the open door of the Lakota, holding a strut for support. He could see the clearing up ahead. After landing in Ecuador, he and Stark had to fly in by helicopter to get close enough to the coordinates. They couldn't land directly on top of it, but they had to land close enough to be within walking distance. Satellite reconnaissance found a small clearing a mile and a half due north. It wasn't big enough to land, but Stark assured Leon that he could get close enough to the ground.

Leon did a final check of his gear. He had his USP, Uzi, combat knife and ammo for both. Tucked into his tactical vest was a flashlight and some medical supplies. He had a radio ear piece, and an emergency beacon that he would activate once he rescued Claire. He pulled the headphones that connected him to Stark.

Stark positioned the helicopter over the clearing. It was a small bit of swampy land. Gently, he descended, the chopper's blades only a few yards from the trees. He brought the chopper within twelve feet of the ground then stopped.

"Close as we're getting!" he yelled over the rotor.

Leon nodded, took a breath, then hopped out of the helicopter. He landed with a small splash in muddy ankle deep water. Thankfully, his waterproof boots kept his feet dry. He flashed a thumbs up, and the chopper rose out of the clearing. Stark radioed one last message:

"Good luck, rookie."

Leon pulled his feet out of the mud, making a loud sucking noise as he did. As the noise from the helicopter faded, he checked the direction on his GPS. He turned and stumbled closer to the tree line and onto firmer ground. He knocked his mud caked boots on the base of a tree, shaking the wet dirt loose, and headed into the jungle, breaking into a light jog.

"_I'm coming Claire._"

This time, there was nothing stopping Leon from running. It was just him, all alone. He would do whatever he could do to ensure that the mission was a success.

The thick jungle almost enveloped him. Everywhere he looked was green. He had expected the heat, but the dampness in the air was worse than he thought. By the time jogged half a mile, he was sweating profusely.

Leon resumed a slower pace. It wouldn't do to get heatstroke in a place and situation like this. He wasn't overly careful about making noise. This far out, there wouldn't be any perimeter guards, and even when as he got closer, he doubted that their would be any. This place was completely isolated. There was no chance of a stray person getting in.

After about 20 minutes, Leon checked his GPS again. He was almost on top of the coordinates. He put the GPS away and drew his USP, holding it out in front of him in both hands. Now he cautiously moved through the thick foliage. Although the place probably wasn't guarded outside, it didn't meant that wouldn't. Leon pushed away a thick bush and saw where the coordinates pointed.

It was a circular clearing, about fifty yards in diameter. On one end was a small structure that looked like a shed. Leon pulled a small optical scope from the pocket in his vest and peered through it, panning the tree line across the clearing. As far as he could tell, there was no one around.

"_That still doesn't mean their aren't any guards or security devices,_" he warned himself. "_Hell, there could be infrared trip wires, good old fashioned claymore mines, or low tech traps. This is probably Wesker's group so why not throw in a few mutant guard dogs?_"

Leon noted that the center of the clearing was disturbed. An irregular pattern was etched in the dirt. It looked like something had scraped the dirt away from the land. Beneath it was a metal plate. Leon figured it was a large elevator, probably a turntable for moving large equipment or storage containers. That meant that the rest of the complex was underground.

Leon continued to survey the clearing, but he didn't notice anything suspicious. He placed the scope back in his pocket and contemplated his next move. His only point of entry was apparently the small shed across the clearing. He could cut across it and be there in thirty seconds. That was the careless way. Sneaking around the dense jungle would take a few minutes, but it would keep him hidden. He tucked back into the foliage, and began to make his way around.

A few minutes later, he approached the back of the shed.

"_Oh, it's not a shed at all,_" Leon realized. The 'shed' was actually concrete, and had two metal sliding doors on the front. It was an elevator. Bits of jungle had grown all around it; vines branches and other growth. The call panel was covered, and the cover was free of any growth. It had been used recently. Leon pressed it and waited. Nothing happened. The button was clear and probably should have lit up, but it didn't.

"_No power?_"

Either the power was out, or the elevator must be controlled from within the complex. Leon wasn't about to let a broken elevator stop him. He unsheathed his combat knife and stuck it into the crack of the sliding doors. Using it as a lever, he pried the door open until he could slip his fingers in. His arms flexed and had no trouble forcing the door open.

Leon sheathed his knife and entered the elevator. It was stopped on the surface level. There were twenty-three simple metal buttons, nothing fancy, twenty-four including the one labeled "S" for surface. None of the buttons responded when Leon pressed them. He looked up and spotted the service hatch that led to the roof of the elevator, and shoved it open. He grabbed the edges and hauled himself up, once again, his strength making the task easy.

Once on top the elevator, Leon pulled out his flashlight. The entire shaft was almost pitch black, save for a few red lights dully dotting every few floors down. Leon's flashlight found a service ladder along the shaft, just within arms reach. He killed his light and began to climb down in darkness.

With only the soft metallic thunk of his boots on the metal ladder to keep him company, Leon made his decent down. He didn't like the situation. It felt like the place was abandoned. There were signs that it had been used, like the elevator panel and the disturbed dirt, but if this place was still being used, why would the power be off?

After a few more minutes of the lonely climb, Leon shined his flashlight again. There was a set of elevator doors just next to him labeled **10.**

"_Good a place as any to start,_" Leon thought. He shined his light around the door. There was about a half a foot of concrete jutting from the shaft underneath the door. "_Not a lot of room to stand._" The fact that he had to make a small jump to get to the ledge didn't help. If he slipped, he would have a brief moment to kick himself, then hit the ground ten plus dark floors below.

"So don't fall," Leon muttered.

He stuck his flashlight between his teeth and released one hand from the ladder. He rocked back and forth, counting down in his head, then jumped along the wall, both feet planting on the narrow ledge. As soon as he landed, his arms shot out and stemmed the inside of the elevator doorway, and he grunted in effort through the metal cylinder in his mouth. He heard a little loose concrete slide off the ledge and into the abyss below.

Leon pulled out his knife and once again pried open the door. He forced it open, then stepped through, pulling his USP out as he did. There was nothing but an empty hallway. He sheathed his knife, then took his light from between his teeth, then held his arms crossed; his left held his flashlight, supporting his firing arm and allowing him to keep the light in front of him.

Like the shaft, the hallway was dark, save for dull red emergency lights dotting the ceiling every few meters. The floor was metal, but was as solid as stone. Leon took a few cautious steps away from the elevator. There was no one around. He hugged the wall and began to proceed down the hall. A door came into view. There was no knob, but a button on the side of it. Leon pressed it, but the door didn't open.

"_Must not be powered,_" Leon realized, and moved on. "_If the whole place is like this, then it's going to be tough moving through it._"

Every so often, Leon would pass similar doors. None of them worked when he tried them. Some of them had large windows next to them. Even when he shined his light through them, all Leon saw was his ghostly reflection in the black glass.

Leon continued his slow crawl along the hall. Finally, there was a regular door, Leon tried the knob, and found it unlocked. To his dismay, it was a cleaning closet. There was a mop and a bucket in the corner, and the shelves were stacked with various cleaners. He shut the door again.

At the end of the hall was another door. It was labeled '**stairs**. Leon tried the door and it opened. The staircase was skeletal, made of slitted metal, and looked more like a fire escape. Leon pointed his light up, then down, catching glimpses of the stairwell as he did.

"_Up, or down?_" Leon wondered. He almost began to think that he shouldn't have entered the complex on the tenth floor. "_Well, if they're holding Claire, they would keep her lower in the facility._"

Leon began to walk down the metal stairs, still trying to keep his footsteps muffled. He couldn't shake the feeling that Claire wasn't here. He hadn't seen anyone since his infiltration, and the power was out. Unless they were only using the lower levels of the complex, Leon began to wonder that whoever sent the note had been caught, and the place was evacuated. If that was the case, he would secure the complex, then bring in the team. Then the search would start back from square one.

Leon left the staircase at level 11. Sweeping the complex floor by floor could take hours, but he couldn't miss anything. Like the level above, most of the doors were electronic, and couldn't be opened. There were only a few regular doors, but they didn't hide anything worth looking; only an office, a bathroom, and another cleaning closet. Unlike the level above, the floor layout was different. There were only a few turns to the hall, but they were in different places.

Leon saw another window next to the door. He new it was useless, but he shined his light through it anyway. A subtle flash of movement caught his eye. He swept the light to the source, but the light reflecting the beam obscured it. Leon carefully positioned the light, so that the beam reflected away from him. He caught just a glimpse of the room. It was a lab. Leon could just make out the glossy metal tables and counters. The source of the movement was a cage with a lab rat in it. The poor critter sniffed at the edge of the bars as if it was trying to find the source of the light.

"_Just a rat. Weird, I thought I saw something bigger._" Leon shrugged it off. The still living rat proved that this place was indeed recently abandoned. Leon headed back to the stairs and went down another level after clearing it.

There was no door for level 12. Leon didn't know why. There was only a blank slab of concrete where the door should have been. The stairs continued down to level 13.

"_Maybe it's a private level, like for security._" Or a prison. He would have to find a way to sweep level 12 on his way back up. "_The elevator is probably the only way to get to it_." That meant another harrowing climb in the elevator shaft, or reactivating the complex's power.

As Leon began to investigate level 13, he saw fewer and fewer electric doors. Regular doors were beginning to become more frequent. Some of them were locked, and the ones that weren't were of no interest. Leon found the mess hall, a locker room, an empty stock room, and a room with a small work bench. There was a tool box underneath it. Whatever was below the 12th level must not have been important as to require electronic doors. Finding nothing again, he headed back to the stairwell.

Leon swept the 14th, 15th, and 16th levels clear. It was maddening. There was nothing useful in any of the rooms, nor any information as to who recently occupied the complex or why they left. Even worse, there was no sign of Claire yet. He couldn't even so much as find a holding cell. Of course, there was the possibility that they just stuck her in an empty room. The nervous feeling in his gut returned. To have come all this way just to find that he just missed her. He pushed the thought out of his mind, it was distracting.

Leon pushed open the door on the 17th level. He got a few steps into the hallway then froze and dropped lower into his shooting stance. The door had softly squeaked shut behind him, but Leon was sure he heard another noise. He clicked his flashlight off and waited in the darkness. The hallway was as quiet as a grave. He crept forward, walking heel to toe, the soles of his boots making almost no sound on the metal floor. He waited, but didn't hear the noise again. Not wanting to dismiss it as his imagination, he crept forward, then heard it again.

It was very faint, almost inaudible. Whatever it was sounded muffled. There were only three doors on level 17. One of them was electronic. Leon walked to the first manual door and slowly turned the knob, then opened the door slowly. It was only a bathroom. Leon swept it quickly, using his boot to push open the door of each stall. Nothing.

Leon headed back out into the hall. He heard the noise a third time. It sounded like a human voice. Leon couldn't tell, but his heart picked up speed. It sounded like the noise came from the last manual door at the end of the hall. Maybe the complex wasn't completely deserted after all.

Leon gripped the door's knob with two fingers, his dark flashlight in the rest of them. He could hear the noise, louder this time. He turned the knob and lunged into the room. The room was pitch black. Leon quickly clicked his light on and gripped his gun tightly. The pressure sensitive button on the handle turned the laser sight on, and both it and the flashlight beam fell on something in the center of the room.

Leon instantly recognized the white blouse and the brown hair.

"Claire!" Leon cried.

She was sitting on a metal chair. The something around her waist shimmered in the light. Chains, wrapped several times around her arms and midsection. Handcuffs adorned her slender wrists, which were forced to stay on her lap. Her head was hanging down and her hair, now out of it's usual ponytail and loose, covered her face. Her head bobbed up when she heard her name. Leon saw a thick white rag bound tightly through her teeth and lips. Her eyes were weak and streaming.

Claire gave what sounded like a sob, choked by her gag. That was the noise he'd been hearing. Leon could just barely understand what she tried to say.

"...'eon?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Leon didn't bother sweeping the rest of the room. If the rest of the place was deserted, so was this place. The only thought on his mind was getting to Claire. He dropped his USP into his shoulder holster and kept the light on her, then hurried over to her. Never in his life was he so glad to see someone. He dropped to one knee next to her, like in an awkward proposal. He reached around the back of her head and felt for the knot of the gag. He found it, a thick tangled mass. Instead of wasting time to untie it, he slipped a finger underneath it and pried it down and out of her mouth until it hung around her neck.

Claire choked and wormed a second cloth buried in her mouth out. Leon helped tug it free then tossed it to the ground. Claire gave a few rasping coughs. Up close, her eyes were tired and wandering.

"_She's dehydrated,_" Leon thought as he fumbled for the small flask in one of his pockets. It held just a small amount of water. The light from his flashlight bobbed, casting eerie shadows on the walls of the room as he unscrewed the cap.

"Here, Claire, you're going to be okay," he assured her, then raised the flask to her lips. "Have some of this."

Claire took a few gulps of the water, some of it spilling out of the corner of her mouth from Leon's awkward holding. He wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Already, she seemed get stronger. However, instead of brightening, her features went dismal, and she broke out in tears again.

Leon was surprised. "Claire...what's wrong?" He hadn't expected this reaction at all. She didn't seem happy to see him. She hung her head and spoke in between sobs.

"Leon...I'm so...s-s-sorry..."

"Claire, what are you talking about?"

"I t-tried...I tried to hold on, but I c-couldn't," she heaved. Leon still didn't know what she was talking about. He tried to comfort her by squeezing her hand in his and placing his other gently on her shoulder.

"Don't worry Claire, you're safe now," he said, "You hung in there just fine."

It almost broke Leon's heart to see her this disheveled. Never had he seen someone so distraught. Claire shook her head, almost angrily.

"No...I t-t-told them," she sobbed, more tears falling down her cheeks, which Leon noticed in the light of his flashlight were red and chapped. "I told them where it was. At f-first I held out, but then they threatened me...then...then..." Claire broke off and cried harder. They weren't tears of sorrow, but tears of shame and humiliation.

Leon gripped her hand tighter. He knew what she meant by 'it'. Evans was right; they had interrogated her, and she had cracked. 'It' must have been the backup hard drive.

"Claire, what did they do to you?"

"First, they just h-hit me...a lot," Claire sniffled.

"_That's what happened to her face,_" Leon realized. "_There's no bruising or welts, so they didn't punch her. They must have just slapped her around for a while._" Claire continued to speak, shakily as ever.

"Then, they took p-p-pliers and...and..." Claire looked like she might throw up. Leon looked down and finally took notice of her right arm.

Her blouse and shirt had been ripped at the sleeve. The blouse's sleeve hung by a few stray threads, and the sleeve of her black shirt was ripped up to the shoulder. What Leon saw almost made him want to throw up as well. Large, thick raised welts, starting from her shoulder ran all the way down to where the chain was coiled around her arm. Several of them had cracked, leaving trails of long drying blood, as well as fresh strains along her arm. Each welt was separate, but Leon had trouble counting them. There had to be at least a dozen.

"Jesus," he breathed and gingerly felt one, trying to examine it. Claire pulled away and gasped.

"It hurts..." she whispered fearfully. Leon retracted his hand, as if Claire's wounds were red hot.

"Sorry," he apologized quickly.

"Oh, God," she vented, "I'm sorry...I tried Leon..."

"Claire, I don't care that you told them," Leon said firmly. "That doesn't matter. I came here to get you, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do." First things first, though. "Do you know who these guys are?" Claire nodded.

"Wesker," she whispered.

"_So it was him_," Leon thought. "Did he do this to you?"

Claire shook her head.

"N-No. It was one of his men."

Leon hated to sit and question her, but he had to get a grasp on the situation.

"Where did everyone go?"

"I don't know. After they..." Claire paused as the scene flew through her head, then squeezed out a few more tears. "...finished, they g-gagged me and left. They never came back. Then the lights went out, and I g-got really scared, and I was alone for a l-long time..."

Leon gripped her hand even tighter. His other hand balled into a fist. Those bastards...It wasn't enough that they had tortured an innocent girl. No, they had broken her into a dozen pieces, and didn't have the nerve to even give her a quick end. They simply abandoned her, alone, scared, and helpless in the dark of some remote facility to die; buried alive. How long had Claire been chained to that chair? Hours? Days? She hadn't succumbed to thirst, and she certainly hadn't wet herself, so it couldn't have been for more than 12 hours. But those hours must have been an eternity to Claire, with only her sobbing to keep her company.

"All that's over now, Claire," Leon tried to say soothingly. He heard the shake in his own voice. He felt so bad for her. "I'm going to get you out."

Easier said than done. Claire was handcuffed, and bound with metal. Leon checked the back of the chair and found a thick padlock holding the chains in place. There was no key to either the cuffs or the lock, and Leon didn't have any cutting tools with him. The chair was metal, and unbreakable, and Leon couldn't risk trying to shoot the lock off so close to Claire. He would have to find something in the complex to cut the lock off. His mind wandered to the toolbox he saw on the 13th level.

"_Maybe there's a hacksaw in there._"

"Claire," Leon said slowly, putting his hand on her knee, "I have to find something to get theses chains off, and maybe something for your arm. I'll be gone for a little bit, but I'll be right back."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Claire's hands shot from her lap and clutched his wrist.

"No! Leon, _please_!" she pleaded, her eyes going wide with panic. "I've been alone for so long. Please don't go just yet."

"_Jesus, they really did break her._" The woman that Leon met in the airport a few days ago was gone. In her place was the broken shell of a scared little girl.

"I have to," Leon said firmly, and gently began to pry her fingers off his wrist. Despite her condition, he would need to be a lot more than gentle to free her grip. "These restraints won't undo themselves."

"Leon, _please_!" It was as if she was afraid that Leon might abandon her too if he left her.

Leon leaned forward and embraced Claire, carefully avoiding her injured arm. His hand cupped the back of her head and drew it into the crook of his shoulder and neck. He felt her desperate hands clutch the strap of his shoulder harness, still afraid that her savior might be taken away from her by unseen forces.

"Deep, slow, breaths, Claire. In and out."

She complied, her nose and mouth exhaling and inhaling long shuddering breaths into his shoulder. Leon felt her chest heave underneath him. There was a small trembling just over his heart: her hands as they held onto his holster.

"In, and out..."

Gradually, her breaths evened and stopped shuddering. Her heaving chest became smooth and natural, and her hands slackened on his gear.

"In and out..."

The pieces that had fallen apart came back together. The scared little girl vanished and Claire Redfield released her hold on his shoulder holster. They gently took hold of his other arm, which was braced against the side of the chair.

"Are you okay?" Leon asked her softly.

Claire murmured into his shoulder. "Mm-hm."

Leon released his hug on Claire and looked at her again, keeping his flashlight shined on her torso, giving her face a morose look. Her eyes were still wide, but alert

"Alright. I'm going to be right back." He paused. "If I don't get you out of here, Chris will kick my ass."

It worked. Claire actually laughed. It wasn't much, but it would help.

"Yeah, he would," she said as one final tear squeezed out. This time, Leon could tell that it was relief. He gently wiped it away with his thumb and sighed.

"Good girl. Be right back."

"Don't be too long," she whispered.

Leon felt bad about taking the flashlight and leaving Claire in the dark, but he needed to be able to see. The place was abandoned, and she would be safe. Leon turned and jogged out the door, then broke into a full run as he got into the hallway. He had to get to the room with the workbench as fast as possible.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Once inside the stairwell, Leon's feet echoed loudly off of the segmented metal. The echoes returned again and again as they hit the walls. He took the stairs two at a time at a dead sprint, and was at the 13th level in no time. He burst out of the door, which hit the wall noisily before slamming shut again. He started down the hall and veered left down another shortly before realizing that the room was straight ahead. He corrected himself and opened the correct door.

Leon spotted the toolbox immediately and hoisted it up onto the workbench for a better look. He flipped it open. There was a hammer, several assorted screwdrivers, and a needle nose pliers (which made Leon shudder) among other things. He was relieved to see that there was indeed a hacksaw on the bottom. He shut the box and took the whole thing. He might need more than one tool to cut Claire loose, and he didn't want to have to sprint back and forth between four levels.

Leon booked it back to the stairs, once again his footsteps creating a mosaic of lonely echoes down the steps. He jumped down the last five stairs to the 17th level and felt the entire landing shudder. As he headed back to Claire, something caught his eye which he hadn't noticed before.

When he had first reached the 17th level, the first thing he heard was Claire's lonely sobbing. He cleared the floor, but he was only looking for signs of life. Now, Leon saw the large panel set into the wall, just past the bend where Claire was. He took a quick peek at it. It looked like an over glorified circuit breaker panel. Leon opened it. There was a single lever and instructions on the inside of the door.

**Emergency Power Station #4**

**In case of power failure, pull lever to activate battery reserves.**

_"Sounds good to me,_" Leon thought, gripping the lever and pulling it down.

The red lights dotting the hall flickered, then illuminated with a pale white light. It wasn't nearly as bright as Leonthought it would be, but he supposed that he should be grateful that it wasn't almost pitch black anymore. It would be better for Claire, too.

Leon entered the room where Claire was held. In the new light, he could see her much better. Her inflamed cheeks and mauled arm were even more apparent, but she was sitting up straight and alert. Leon briefly noticed a look of apprehension in her eyes as he entered with the toolbox, but she gave her head a quick shake and it passed. He set the toolbox on the small table in the room.

"What'd you find?" she asked as she nervously picked at a fingernail.

"Hopefully, something that will get you out of here," Leon said as he opened the toolbox and pulled the hacksaw loose. "If this doesn't work, we'll have to find something to talk about for the next eleven hours or so." He unslung the Mini-Uzi from his back and set it on the table.

Leon contemplated where to start trying to cut. Cutting the lock was out of the question. It was heavy reinforced steel. He could spend a day on it and get nowhere. The chains had to be cut directly. He had to stay away from Claire, or risk cutting her, especially her bad arm. He opted to start at the back of the chair. The chains were drawn tightly across it in four streaks. He took hold of one and pulled on it, making it as taught as possible, then began to saw.

The chains weren't overly thick or heavy, but they weren't that thin and light either. The saw made an annoying ringing sound as it passed over the metal over and over again. Leon had one knee up on the seat of the chair, next to Claire, and he had to draw his arm back and forth near her head, down the back of the chair. She had to swing her legs over to give him enough room and tilt her head to the side. Leon realized that this had to be extremely uncomfortable for her, but she stayed silent as he worked.

"So..." said Leon as he worked the first chain, "Got any other bits of intel for us?" He didn't have any other ideas to keep her occupied while he sawed.

"Not too much," she said, "They said that they put me out for two days, so I don't remember how I got here." She paused. "Wait, just where the hell are we?"

"Ecuador," Leon replied, grunting.

"Huh...I was way off. I was still thinking in the States."

"Nope."

"Well, anyway, when I woke up, they had stuck me in a cell near a bunch of B.O.W's."

There was different sound, the sound of breaking metal, as the hacksaw broke through the last millimeter of metal on the link Leon was working on. He paused to catch his breath.

"B.O.W's?" he asked, sounding worried. "Here?"

Claire nodded. "But if you didn't see anything on your way in, then they're probably still in containment on the bottom floor. Or," she added, "They shipped them out when they left."

Leon pulled the saw free, then got off the chair and went around to the back to see the progress. The saw had finally cut through a link on the first chain. Leon didn't have anyway to pull them apart. The needle nose pliers wouldn't do much to separate the link. He went and got one of the screwdrivers from the toolbox, then slid it in the link for a better grip. He positioned the gap on the link over the next one.

"Alright Claire, you're going to feel a lot of pressure on your torso," he warned. "Let me know if it hurts."

She nodded. "'kay."

Leon pulled on both ends of the chain with all his strength, trying to force the link through the gap. He strained for a second, then the popped through and Leon smashed his hand against the back of the chair as it released. He grunted in pain.

"Are you okay?" Claire asked, trying to turn her head and see what happened.

Leon shook his hand. He really didn't look forward to doing that three more times.

"I'm fine, what about you?"

"Feeling better already."

Leon took up his cutting position and began to saw on the next chain.

"So, B.O.W's?" he asked.

"Oh...yeah. I almost lost my face to a Hunter."

Leon winced, partially in strain, the other in disgust.

"Sick bastards..." he muttered. He worked silently for a few minutes, then the next link broke. He repeated the same process of pulling the chain apart at the gap. This time, Claire gave out a small gasp.

"I'm fine," she assured Leon when he inquired, "It just pinched my arm, keep going."

Leon perched again and began to cut.

"So then what?"

"Well, I managed to piss off one of the guards, probably gave him a bad headache, and they brought me up here. Then came the..." she trailed off. Leon felt her swallow hard.

"_It's going to be a while before she gets over this._"

"Yeah, I got ya," Leon said heavily. After a long time, the third link was cut. The saw was beginning to dull. Leon prayed that it would last at least one more chain. He pulled apart the third one, then wiped the sweat from his brow. He was so close to getting her out, he couldn't rest now.

The fourth chain took an entire 20 minutes to cut through. Leon feared that the saw was smooth, but just as he did, the link broke. Leon let out a sigh from effort then sat down behind the chair, using the screwdriver as a grip and bracing his feet against the chair.

"1, 2, 3!" Leon counted and pulled the chain. It snapped, and once again his hand bashed into the metal chair. He fell back. "Dammit!"

Claire rocked forward, trying to pull herself up. The chains rattled and loosened, but didn't come off. Leon tugged at the chains in back and helped thread them from off the chair. Finally they unraveled, and with a rattle of metal, Claire stood up and shook herself free of her restraints. Leon got to his feet and Claire pressed herself to his chest. She wanted to embrace him properly, but the handcuffs were still on her wrists. Leon did the hugging for her.

"Thank you," she whispered. Leon held her for a minute, then patted her back and released her.

"No problem." He picked up the saw, which was beginning to come loose in it's handle and felt the edge. It still had a little edge near the ends. "How about those cuffs?."

The saw was almost completely dull. There was no chance that it could cut through the cuffs themselves. Leon would have to cut the chain linking them together.

"Sorry Claire," he said as he sat down on the chair. "Looks like you're going to have to wear bracelets. Put your hands on my knees."

Claire placed her hands on Leon's knees, and firmly held the chain across them. Leon gently placed the saw between her arms and began to saw carefully, trying to keep the sharp bits of the saw on the chain. In ten minutes, the saw bit through the thin metal chain holding the cuffs together. Both of them tugged together, and managed to worm the chain through the cut. The cuffs still dangled around both of her wrists

"Let's take a look at your arm," Leon said after dropping the saw.

Gingerly Claire held her right arm up. Several of the welts still oozed blood. The right side of her blouse was speckled with it. Leon flipped open a pocket on his vest and pulled out a small aerosol can and a small roll of bandages.

"Aw crap..." Claire groaned. "You should have just sawed my arm off while you were at it."

"It only hurts for a little bit," Leon assured her, holding the bottle of First Aid Spray in one hand, and her injured arm gently in the other. "Take a deep breath."

Claire breathed, and Leon began to spray the medicine on her arm. Claire winced and audibly growled as the medicine seemed to set her skin on fire. It passed after a while, then Leon began to wrap her upper arm with the bandages. He knotted it gently at her elbow.

"Thanks," she said. "It feels better already."

Leon stuck his medical supplies back in his vest, slung his Mini-Uzi over his shoulder, and pulled his USP out. Claire rummaged through her pocket and procured a second elastic strap, then hastily did her hair up in it's usual ponytail. She began to undo the buttons of her blouse, then abandoned the idea and simply pulled it off. The buttons popped off and fell to the floor, and she removed the article of clothing, leaving it on a heap next to the chair.

"Let's go," Leon said.

"Agreed."

They left the room and headed back into the hall. Claire stayed tucked behind Leon. The place might have been empty, but Leon wanted to play it safe. He wasn't quite sure how they were going to get out. The emergency power was running, but it might not be connected to the elevator. He didn't want to risk Claire having to climb the elevator shaft in her condition. He planned to take the stairs as high as they could, then see if the elevator was working. If it wasn't, they wouldn't have to climb so far.

To their dismay, the stairs only went up to level 8. There was still an other 8 plus floors above them, and Leon's locater wouldn't work unless they were on the surface. Leon and Claire exited the stairs on the 8th floor. Leon hadn't been on this level yet, so he was extra careful. He kept his gun in front of him and Claire. The level appeared to be deserted, just like the others, but Leon then stepped around the corner.

"Freeze!" he barked.

Claire rounded around the corner, and saw a white lab coat. Leon had his gun pointed at it. The red dot from his laser sight hovered around in tiny circles high on it's back. Whoever was wearing it didn't answer or even move. Claire stayed behind Leon and looked around his shoulder. The figure turned quite suddenly, his features visible. Claire gasped.

The figure turned, it was a man. His entire right cheek was missing, the right half of his jaw and teeth exposed in a wicked half grin. As he fully turned to them, the rest of his face was almost devoid of skin. There was only glistening muscle that was a sick shade of gray. He was missing one eye, and his scalp was spotted with missing holes and hair.

"Oh God..." Claire breathed.

The thing that was once a man let out a garbled scream and ran towards them, awkwardly pumping it's arms like a drunken runner. Leon fired once, then twice. Both shots struck it's chest. It stumbled, and almost fell back, then screeched again and charged. Leon raised his gun higher, the red dot going from it's chest to its face, then fired twice more.

The first shot clipped it's jaw, sending a spray of blood, bone, and teeth to the floor. The second shot passed cleanly through it's forehead. The thing jerked and fell to the ground, it's inertia almost skidding it into Leon's boots. Leon kept his gun trained on the mass of bone and brain that used to be the back of it's head. He confirmed that it wasn't going to get up, then pointed his gun down the hall.

The corpse reeked, like it had been dead for two weeks.

The elevator was down the hall, right in front of them. Before either Leon or Claire could make a break for it, the smell of decomposition increased, and footsteps began to echo. They were clear and definite, no sliding or shuffling. There were also a lot of them.

Some of the electronic doors had opened. More figures began to rapidly file out into the hall. Most of them wore lab coats. Others just had normal clothes. All of them were in various states of advanced decomposition. There wasn't a single one that had both eyes, ears, or all of their teeth. They turned to Leon and Claire. They didn't moan in hunger, but growled and screamed in rage at the sight of the two. Already, the hall was full of them.

"Claire, run!" Leon yelled as the creatures began to charge. He fired the remainder of his clip, 8 shots, into the advancing mob as he retreated. Two scored headshots, although only one fell permanently. The other shots only slowed them down as they stumbled and bumped into each other. Leon turned and ran, ejecting his empty magazine as he did. He slid the next clip in and chambered the round. Claire was a few paces ahead of him, sprinting for the stairs.

The mob behind them kept pace, never falling behind and never really gaining. Claire burst through the door, followed by Leon, who slammed it shut. He heard the mass of bodies pile up against the door with a volley of thuds.

"Where the hell did they come from?" Leon said aloud, though he meant to think it. There had been no sign of undead on the lower floors, not so much as a smell.

Halfway down the stairs, Leon was both amazed and horrified as the door opened and the raging undead spilled into the stairwell. The ones in Raccoon City weren't this aggressive, and not nearly as smart.

"_So what the hell made them this smart?_" Leon thought as he fired a few rounds into them before running. "_And why are they so fast? I can't even stop to get a good shot off!_" If Leon paused to line up any shots, he would be overtaken within seconds. His heart was racing, just like it was when he was in Raccoon City. Only this time, their situation was even worse.

The chase continued down the stairs. As Claire passed the door to level14, the door opened, and another mass of corpses began to wedge into the stairs. Before they could, Leon rammed the door with his shoulder, managing to shut it with a bang. Just as he pushed off of it, the door opened again and he felt cold wet hands claw at his arm and shoulder. Leon blindly stuck his gun at the mob and pulled the trigger. There was a wet explosion. He pulled himself free and continued to run down the steps. The undead from the 14th level collided and and mingled with the chasing mob.

"Claire, we need to get out of this stairwell!" Leon yelled. She was a full floor below him.

"Which floor?" she yelled back.

"Pick one!"

Leon rounded the flight of stairs and saw the door to level 16 open, Claire running down the hall. He slammed the door shut behind him, knowing how little it would do. He caught up to Claire, who had slowed for him. Ahead of them was the elevator. The stairwell door opened, and the undead began to charge out. Leon and Claire couldn't wait for the elevator. They turned left as the hall turned into a t-intersection. There was a set of double doors on the end of it, with an electronic pad next to it.

Claire hit the door and mashed the pad, then slipped through the door as it opened. Once on the other side, Leon hit the pad again and the doors shut. One sweep of the room with his eyes told Leon that it was mercifully void of the undead, but not for long.

They were in a mostly empty warehouse. Two large freight containers sat on the end of the room. There were some boxes stacked on one of them. Other than that, that was it. No other doors, no exit. A dead end.

Behind them, the sound of thundering footsteps increased.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Claire's voice bordered on panic. "What're we going to do?"

Leon whipped his head back and forth, scanning the room for another exit. Any second, the zombies in the hall would be on top of them. The empty warehouse had no other doors. Leon felt desperate, then looked up.

"Look, up there!" he said, pointing.

There was a catwalk hanging from the ceiling. The two freight containers sat below it. The boxes on top of them just might be high enough to reach it. Leon had no idea where it would take them, but at the moment, it would have to do. He and Claire took off running towards the containers on the other side of the empty room. Before they got halfway across, the doors slid open, and like a rushing current, the decomposing creatures flowed into the room.

The freight containers had various metal bars across their doors, functioning as both door handles and locks, and the entire containers were painted a dull orange. They looked like the kind that were loaded onto a semi, except a little wider. Claire hit the one closest to them, then took hold of the various metal parts and began to hoist herself up. Leon turned and leveled his gun at the approaching zombies.

He fired, aiming for the head of the first one he saw. The .45 hollow point passed cleanly through the graying, slimy skin of the running corpse and it collapsed, tripping half a dozen that passed over it. Leon's laser sight danced to the next closest one, centering on it's skull. He fired and missed, the bullet burying itself into the chest of one behind it. The next shot dropped it's intended target. The exit wound in the back of the corpse's head showered the creatures closest to it with blood and brain, but didn't impede them as they charged.

He heard Claire slip on the container. He reached up and pushed on her butt with one hand before she lost her grip, shoving her back up until she was able to get on top of the metal cargo container. Leon jumped and caught hold of the top of the container, then used his feet to push off of the small footholds. As he got his elbows up, he felt the undead slam against the back of his legs, then begin to grab and claw. They almost pulled him off the side of the container, had it not been for Claire grabbing the straps of his shoulder holster and helping pull him up. Leon kicked back at the hands taking hold of him and felt his boot connect several times.

He fell on her legs and scrambled to get away from the edge of the container. An arm in a short sleeved lab coat flung itself over the edge. Its middle finger was only a bloody bone, and the rest of the hand was pure muscle. The fingernails were more like talons than human nails. A head appeared over the edge, following the arm. Its pus filled eyes glared at both of them as it let out an airy scream. Leon put a bullet between it's eyes and it fell away in a spray of blood. More arms appeared on the edge.

Claire and Leon scuttled away from the edge of the container. Claire had her arm wrapped around his chest, as if she was pulling him away to safety. They quickly got to their feet, Leon hauling Claire up by the wrist. He pressed his USP into her hand along with the remaining spare magazine.

"Seven in the gun, twelve in the mag," he said quickly. "Get climbing!"

Claire vaulted over the short gap between the containers, which were packed with walking corpses. She stuck the gun down the back of her jeans and the extra magazine in her pocket, then began to climb the irregularly stacked crates.

Leon unslung the Mini-Uzi from his shoulder. He had to keep the undead at bay until Claire was safe. By now, the entire warehouse was full of the raging zombies, and all of them were trying to get to the containers where they stood. Leon could feel their hands reverberate through the metal as they beat and claw them.

Three separate bodies had almost hoisted themselves onto the container. Leon swept the Uzi over them and pulled the trigger. A sound like chattering teeth, only louder echoed around the warehouse. The climbing zombies became riddled with bullet holes and slid off the side of the container. More arms appeared, groping on the pooling blood where the others had fallen.

Leon stood his ground and fired at the next wave, more blood arcing into the air. He could see the hands reaching up all the way around the container in his peripheral vision, but fortunately, the undead could only climb up where Leon and Claire did. The other sides of the container were smooth metal.

"_These things couldn't climb anything before!_" he thought as he gunned down another two trying to pull themselves up. "_Why the hell are these ones so different?_"

He dropped the empty 32 round magazine from his gun and loaded another, then snuck a peak at Claire. She was just sliding in between the railings on the catwalk. Leon re-slung his Uzi, then made the jump across the containers. Stumbling and almost falling as he landed on it, he began to climb the crates.

"Leon!" screamed Claire from above him.

Leon turned and saw that two corpses had already hoisted themselves on the first container. One had no hair, it's scalp spotted with gray and red muscle and fascia, and it was dressed in a lab coat like most of the others. The other was wearing a black uniform and a tactical vest, like a soldier. This one was missing it's lower lip. At first, Leon thought he would be safe on the other container, but that thought quickly left his head as they_ leaped_ across the gap and landed sprawling on the container he was standing on. Above him, Claire opened fire at a third corpse just clamoring up onto the first container. Three shots rang out, one missing and the other two landing in it's mangled body.

Leon couldn't get his his Uzi around in time. One of the corpses lunged and grabbed him, the hairless one, then threw him on the roof of the container. The soldier dove for him, jaws open, but Leon got his leg up and kicked it in the chest. The force propelled it careening off the container and into the seething mass below. The hairless zombie also lunged, landing on top of him. He caught it by the throat, and strained at it's surprising strength. Up close, he almost gagged from the putrid scent of rotting flesh and the feeling of slimy exposed muscle on his fingers. He shoved it off of him and got to his feet.

Claire fired again, covering the first container and clipping a fourth climbing zombie in the head. Leon got his Uzi around and and pointed it at the third zombie, the one that Claire had first shot. It was preparing to make the leap to the second container. Just as Leon lined it up, the hairless zombie got to it's feet. It lunged as he fired. Leon sidestepped, shooting awkwardly with his right hand only. The Uzi spasmed almost uncontrollably in his hand as it lanced the zombie. It collapsed from the barrage. He caught the hairless zombie around the neck in a choke hold, then wrenched his arm. It's neck snapped and it twitched, then went motionless.

Finally, Leon was able to get the time to climb the crates. For good measure, he took hold of the catwalk, then pushed the crates off their stack. These things were smart, but they couldn't be smart enough to stack the crates again. He hefted himself up onto to metal walkway by his strength, with Claire assisting once again by tugging on his harness.

When he was safely on the catwalk, they both collapsed, almost exhausted. Leon was panting heavily, sprawled out on the segmented metal. He was drenched in sweat. Claire sat propped against one of the support railings, not panting nearly as bad, but she was holding her injured arm. The rough movement and climbing opened the cuts again, and blood was begin to speckle on the white bandage circling her arm.

Below them, the undead still frothed with movement and activity, but it wasn't as intense. They didn't just wander around and jostle into each other like the Raccoon zombies did. Instead, they just stared up at the pair, pacing back and forth, every so often emitting a low growl.

"You okay?" asked Leon, panting.

Claire nodded, swallowed and found her voice. "Yeah, fine." She looked down at the creatures below them. "Where did they all come from?"

"They weren't here before?"

"Probably not," she said. "Maybe there was an outbreak, and that's why everyone left. There's no way they could keep this many at bay."

Leon had a different theory. "I didn't see anything on my way in. All the electronic doors were sealed. If there _was_ an outbreak, any non infected would have just left. They made a point to switch off the power. I'm guessing all of them," he nodded down below, "were sealed up inside whatever the electronic doors lead to." He suddenly groaned and wiped his face, then sat up.

"I'm such an idiot!" he exclaimed. "When I turned on the emergency power, the doors reactivated, and they let themselves out." He shook his head. "_I_ let them out!"

Leon felt like the biggest screwup of all time. He shouldn't have putzed with anything. He could have released Claire, and been in and out in an hour. But instead, he let himself worry about her condition, about how she still might be scared. She was stronger than that, and he knew it. Now, they were ass deep in cannibals.

Claire slid over to him and gently held his shoulders.

"Leon, don't blame yourself," she said. "You were only trying to help. You didn't have any idea what could happen. We're still alive, and that's all that matters."

"Hopefully, it stays that way," Leon said heavily. His first solo op wasn't going so well, but Claire was right, they weren't dead yet. "We need to get out of here. Hopefully, the majority of those things are below us, so we can make a break for the elevator."

Leon took a minute to reload his empty Uzi magazine, then gave Claire all his remaining rounds for the USP.

"I wish they would stop staring at us," Claire said as she reloaded, indicating to the mass of undead below them.

"They seem to be smarter," Leon said, "Not to mention stronger. You saw how they could climb, open doors, and even jump."

"Yeah, I noticed," Claire said dryly.

There was a door on either end of the catwalk. They picked one, and cautiously advanced out of the warehouse. Leon stayed in front and extended the Uzi's shoulder stock, and kept it ready on his shoulder. Claire stayed close behind him, gun pointed up at her shoulder, watching their backs. The catwalk door led to a service cramped service hallway. There was a leaking pipe which created a pool down the center of it. Leon and Claire stayed to the side of it. At the end of the hall, they found another door. Leon cracked it open, then opened it swiftly and quietly, sweeping the room clear as he did. It was an empty lab.

It was trashed, broken glass and debris littered the floor. Papers and instruments were strewn over all the metal tables and desks. Leon and Claire advanced into the room, wincing as their boots crunched on broken glass. At the far end of the lab was an electronic door. At Leon's command, Claire opened the door, then stepped away. The hallway outside was clear. Leon took a look around the edge of the door, then motioned to Claire.

"Clear."

Leon tried to get his bearings as they advanced. If they could find the elevator, so much the better. Screw the risks of climbing it, they were better than staying put. Down another hall, Leon and Claire bladed themselves against the wall, then peeked around the corner. Leon shook his head. Three undead were roaming further down. With their combined firepower, Leon and Claire could take them out, but the noise might attract more. Stealth would be a better option.

They doubled back and tried another door. This one led into yet another lab, although this one wasn't as trashed. There was a door on the other side. On the other side, to their relief was a staircase that went up. Quickly and quietly, they walked up, always keeping their heads tilted up, watching for signs of movement.

About four floors later, the stair's led them to a security checkpoint. There was a metal desk set behind a raised wall with glass, like at a bank. There were metal detectors that boarded the exit door, but Leon doubted that the emergency power had turned them on. Behind the window, the room turned around a corner.

"Claire, you arm!" Leon said suddenly.

The blood speckles that were beginning to form had connected, turning the white bandage almost half red. She shook her arm slightly, as if to test it.

"It feels fine," she assured him, "Let's keep moving."

"Not until I change that field dressing."

Leon pulled out the roll of bandages from his vest and cut off Claire's dressing. The welts were smeared with blood and white residue from the First Aid Spray. Much to Claire's reluctance, Leon sprayed it again, then wrapped her arm in fresh bandages.

"Alright," said Leon as he knotted the dressing, "that should hold until-"

There was a crash, and Leon felt arms around his neck, then Claire screamed. They were both showered in broken glass as something vaulted through the security station's window. Leon fell to the ground, with a squirming corpse on top of him. It's gnashing teeth came dangerously close to his throat as Leon got his arm up to its neck and shoved it away.

Claire tried to line up a shot on the zombie on Leon, but hesitated. They were both thrashing about, and she couldn't get a clean shot on the corpses head without Leon's coming into view.

Over the gurgling moaning that was coming from the zombie he was grappling with, Leon heard more breaking glass, then gunfire. He couldn't see it, but a second one must have broken in, and now Claire was shooting at it.

With his Uzi pinned beneath him, and unable to grab his knife without loosing a piece of flesh, Leon worked his leg underneath the zombie, and pushed with all his might. He shoved it off of him, and it bumped against the low, glass rimmed wall. Leon scrambled to his feet as it lunged for him. Claire was reloading.

Leon ducked low like a lineman, and caught the zombie around the waist and clasped his arms around its back. It disgusted him to be this close and actually voluntarily touching the slimy flesh. He shoved the thought out of his mind and flexed his legs, using his strength and the zombie's forward momentum to lift it up and over him, then suplex it into the floor. There was a loud crack as the zombie's face was rammed into the ground. Leon shoved the limp body off of him and got to his feet. The zombie lay sprawled on the floor, it's neck at an odd angle and it's head partially collapsed.

Seeing that Claire wasn't still shooting, he assumed that the ambush was over. They confirmed that the other one was okay, then headed through the metal detectors and out the door. The hall was clear of the undead. Leon recognized the floor as one of the previous ones he swept clean, level 11 if he remembered correctly. They located the elevator door, and Leon pulled out his knife. He wedged it in the crack until he got his fingers in, then Claire helped pull it open. The shaft was no longer dark, but dim with several emergency lights.

Hugging the doorway, Leon reached and grabbed the ladder with one hand, then swung himself off the ledge and planted himself securely on it. He climbed a few rungs, then stopped.

"Okay Claire," he said, "Give me your hand."

Claire's smaller and elegant hand snaked around the door, and took Leon's firmly. Her arms weren't long enough to reach the ladder by themselves, so Leon had a plan to remedy just that.

"I'm going to swing you over to the ladder. Grab it when you get close."

"Okay," she said. Her head was sticking into the elevator shaft. She looked a little nervous. Leon wondered if she wasn't good with heights. "On three?"

"On three. One...two...three!"

Claire stepped off the edge and reached out for the ladder. Leon's arm directed her in an arc towards it. His arm strained a bit as she swung through the air. Claire caught the side of the ladder and it thudded hollowly in the empty shaft.

"Got it!" she said when both feet were planted firmly. She looked and sounded relieved.

"Home free," Leon called and began to climb. Claire was right behind him. They passed the open door of level 10 where Leon had entered. As they passed it, they heard the sounds of the walking corpses. The level sounded full of them, but Leon and Claire soon passed them. Leon soon saw the elevator, still docked at the surface.

"_Almost there._" Leon pressed a switch on his radio on his hip, activating the GPS locater. The sooner Stark got there, the better.

A loud clicking sounded as they reached the bottom of the elevator. At first, Leon thought it was loose gravel or stone that had shaken loose, but then it grew louder. Leon looked down, past Claire and saw something moving. Whatever it was, it was steadily scaling the side of the elevator shaft walls.

The climbing creature was completely devoid of skin. Every tendon, ligament, and layer of muscle was visible. The thing had no face, just a mouth rimmed with razor sharp teeth, and a head consisting of an exposed brain. As it crawled up, it let out a low hiss, drool dripping from it's teeth, a long tongue sticking two feet out from between them, then quickened it's pace.

"_Not good._"


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The file that Leon had read in the Raccoon Police Department bubbled to the top of his mind:

_**...we have tentatively named this creature the "licker"...**_

Leon remembered everything from that file. It described it razor like claws, and it's most unusual feature: it's lance like tongue. Leon had seen one's tongue launch well over two meters and pierce metal. Now, that same type of creature was scrabbling up the side of the elevator shaft walls. It's body was humanoid, but the way it moved was almost spider-like. It's curved claws found every nook and hand hold to climb up. The bloated exposed muscles on it's body contracted and expanded as the licker's virus enhanced body closed the gap on the escaping pair.

Leon slid over on the ladder and let Claire climb past him.

"Get to the top and get inside the elevator," commanded Leon as Claire scuttled past him.

Once she was above him, Leon gripped his Uzi. He had folded the shoulder stock back along the gun for the climb up, since there would be no way for him to properly use it while holding on to a ladder. Gripping a rung with his left hand, Leon leaned out into the shaft and fired with the Uzi in his right.

The sound of chattering gunfire lanced up and down the elevator shaft. The Uzi wasn't a type of gun that was meant to be fired with one hand, let alone at long distances. The licker was just inside it's recommended range. The bullets pelted the concrete shaft all around it, and the licker curled into a ball, trying to avoid them. Leon continued to fire in bursts, hoping that a few hits might send it tumbling down the shaft. A splatter of blood spurted down the shaft, and the licker screamed shrilly.

Instead of falling, it jumped off the wall and latched onto the other side of the shaft. It began to climb, but it looked like someone had pressed fast forward; it's movements were almost a blur as it scaled the wall, the clicking sound of it's claws like teeth on metal. It shot past Leon and he lost sight of it as it went past the elevator.

"It's coming your way!" Leon yelled to Claire, who just reached the top of the ladder.

"What?!" she yelled back, unaware that the licker had vanished from below them.

There was a thud on the elevator, and Claire yelped. Leon hauled up the ladder as she began to haul down. The licker's claw swiped out and narrowly missed the top of Claire's head. As the claw passed, it clipped the ladder, taking a divot out of the metal. Claire slipped and almost tumbled into the abyss, had it not been for Leon almost on top of her.

Leon leveled his Uzi as the top of the elevator came into view. The licker was perched on the center of it, right over the hatch that Leon entered during his arrival. Leon aimed for the licker's exposed brain and fired. The burst of gunfire missed, instead hitting it's limbs and body. The licker screamed in agony and swiped blindly. It's claws snagged the cable holding the elevator. The several of the metal strands that composed the single cable snapped. The licker thrashed again, and it's claws struck another cable, this time severing it completely.

Leon's magazine ran dry. He ejected it, and the empty casing fell twirling down the shaft. He saw Claire as it passed her, hugging the ladder with both hands. Awkwardly hugging the ladder, Leon reached and pulled his last full magazine from his belt, then slammed it into the gun and released the slide.

The licker sat back, like a begging dog and opened it's mouth. The spear like tongue shot from between it's fangs. It clipped Leon's shoulder and struck the wall. Leon gasped in pain as a deep scrape appeared across his right collar bone. He almost fell from the ladder, dangling precariously by his left hand. He raised the Uzi and fired a continuous stream of bullets. It was his last chance.

The bullets ripped through the licker and ricocheted off various metal parts on the top of the elevator. Another cable snapped. The partially ripped one began to unravel more, the weight of the dead elevator pulling the metal strands apart one by one. Leon saw it coming.

"Claire, watch out!"

The last strands of the cable separated, and the elevator began to scrape down the shaft with a horrible metal on metal screech, sparks showering from it's guide rails.. Claire swung herself away from the falling metal as sparks showered her, still hugging the ladder. Leon did the same thing, though he was already halfway past the elevator when it fell. The elevator disappeared from sight, but the screeching sound still echoed. Then, there was a massive crash from somewhere in the depths of the shaft.

Leon breathed a sigh of relief.

"Can we please go now?" Claire asked.

Leon laughed, mostly from the adrenaline coursing through his body.

"Sure thing."

The outside door that Leon had pried open let sunlight into the shaft. It was the middle of the afternoon. To Leon, it looked like heaven compared to the hellish creatures on the levels below them. They climbed up to the top of the ladder, then repeated the same process they did when they entered the shaft. Leon made the small jump first, then held onto Claire and helped her out.

"Oh, sunlight!" she said running her fingertips through her hair, sounding relieved. "I've been underground for so long."

Leon checked his locater. The light was still clicking merrily on and off. He frowned.

"_It's not supposed to make any noise. This thing is used for black ops surveillance._"

Leon tensed up. It wasn't his locater that was clicking, it was the elevator shaft behind him. Claire heard it too. Her eyes were discs.

"Leon..."

He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into a run. The licker burst through the open elevator door, bleeding profusely from Leon's gunfire and sounding extremely angry. Leon turned and shielded Claire with his body, then fired with his Uzi, the bullets making new wholes in the creature. It ran dry after a few shots. Leon was out. The licker screeched and dove for them both.

Leon shoved Claire out of the way and pulled his knife from his belt. It was suicidal to try and fight it hand to hand, but he wasn't about just let it maul them both to death. The licker tackled him to the ground. Leon grabbed it's massive wrists, trying to keep it's claws at bay. It screamed at Leon as it thrashed on top of him, giving him a whiff of hot rancid breath. It's tongue began to slither out, coiling like a snake ready to strike, dripping with saliva.

Gunshots rang out, and the licker screamed again, this time in pain. Leon was splattered in blood, and caught a glimpse of Claire, gun in both hands. The licker turned it's eyeless head in her direction.

"Hey asshole!" she bellowed, waving her arms, despite the fact that it couldn't see her. "Over here!"

"_Claire you idiot!_" Leon thought as the licker bounded off of him and galloped towards it's new opponent. "_What are you doing?_"

Claire ran back to the elevator shaft, the licker rapidly gaining on her. She whirled around to face it as she reached the open entrance. The licker dove and so did Claire, but to the side. It sailed past her into the open doorway. She scrambled to her feet, then pointed her gun into the doorway and fired, emptying the rest of the USP into it as it clung to the wall.

It screamed again and let go, all but one leg, then dangled for a minute. It released it's final talon and began to fall As it fell, it's tongue lanced out to it's full extent.

The tongue shot out of the shaft and through Claire's legs, then hooked around her ankle. Claire fell to the dirt , her legs over the side of the elevator shaft. The fall and her weight began to pull her over the side, her hands clawing at the ground as she started to disappear into the shaft.

Leon had gotten to his feet, then sprinted faster than he had in all his life when he saw her collapse. He wasn't going to make it in time. Before he got within five meters, her head disappeared. Leon dove, sliding along the ground and getting a facefull of dirt. He plunged his arm over the side and grabbed, his hand mercifully clutched warm skin.

"Gotcha!"

Leon held Claire by her left wrist. Her right hand came up and clasped his. She dangled just a few inches from the wall. She slipped in his grasp, and screamed as Leon caught her by the hand.

"Claire," Leon said, trying to keep his voice level, "Can you reach the ladder?"

Claire kicked out a leg in a vain attempt to reach the service ladder they had climbed. She was too far away.

"Ugh...no!"

Leon already felt his arm growing numb. Claire only weighed about a hundred pounds, give or take, but he was almost exhausted. His ribs were painfully pressed against the metal edge of the elevator's door frame. His epic dive almost slid himself off the edge with Claire.

A tremor ran through his bicep and into his chest, a tremor not of fatigue, but of fear. There was a dread familiarity about the whole situation. Leon blinked.

Claire's wide blue eyes turned a deep, alluring brown.

He blinked again, not sure if what he saw was a hallucination or not. Claire's eyes were definitely blue, but now her hair seemed to be glossy and jet black, instead of it's soft brown.

Leon groaned and tried to pull her up, but his arm collapsed. Claire struggled to pull her body up, but she too lacked any strength. If she tried too hard, she could pull him over the edge as well. She could do little but hang in his grasp, her legs kicking slightly, causing her red dress to-

"_No!_" Leon's head screamed. "_She's not wearing a dress!_"

Like it or not, Claire had begun to turn into _her_. The weak, defeated voice from Leon's recurring dream began to speak in his head, reminding him of the inevitability of what was coming.

_It's over. Let me go._

"_No!_" Leon thought again angrily. "_I won't let her go!_"

Leon tried to pull Claire up again, but once again his arm protested with pain. The numbness was beginning to be replaced with a fiery ache. His head collapsed against the dirt.

"Try to...swing your legs against...the wall," Leon said straining. Droplets of sweat began to form on his brow.

Claire tried to push up against the wall, but her boots slipped on the concrete, and Leon almost lost her.

"Unnh...I can't pull myself up!" Claire said panicked. "Leon, don't let me go!"

_It's over. We both know it._

Claire's eyes seemed to flash brown again, then blue, sparkling with water.

"I won't," he tried to assure her.

"_No..._" Leon begged as his hand began to weaken further. His body was pleading to let go and relieve the pain. "_Please, not again...not like this._" Her voice echoed in his head one final time.

_Good-bye..._

Leon groaned, almost screamed, then forced every ounce of himself into his right arm. He pulled Claire, slowly, straight up. He propped himself on his left hand, summoned himself, then pulled again. Claire's body re-emerged into the doorway. She clasped the edge with her hand, but Leon gave one last tug and pulled her up and out. He fell back with her on top of him, his arms securely around her waist.

Claire let out a few shuddering breaths. Leon felt wetness on his neck where her face was buried. Tears. He caught a fleeting scent from her hair. It was perfume, the expensive kind that _she_ had been wearing, mixed with the copper-like smell of blood. Leon breathed again, this time only smelling the scent of Claire's sweat and plain skin. He suppressed a hiss of pain as she lay on him. His shoulder was throbbing, and he was sure that he pulled several muscles in his arm, but he would much rather be in pain from holding her close than not holding her at all.

Neither of them spoke. Leon only gently patted her on the back, above her right shoulder blade, comforting her gently. Leon didn't blame her for crying. He felt like crying himself, but tears of thankfulness for not losing her like he almost did.

Around them, the jungle stood silently watching them, every so often some unseen animal making it's presence known with a hoot or growl. Leon wished the peace could last for a few minutes longer, but his radio buzzed, breaking the natural ambiance.

"Leon, gimme a sit-rep, over," came Stark's voice. It sounded tiny. Leon reached up to his ear to radio back, but the ear bud was missing. It had fallen out, and was dangling near his shoulder from the strap around his neck. He stuck it hastily back in, then pressed the send button.

"Package secured and awaiting pickup, over," he said quietly.

"Roger," Stark said, his voice much louder. This time, Leon heard the thudding of the helicopter's rotor in the background. "ETA 3 minutes. Out."

Claire lifted her head and wiped her eyes, thankfully their normal icy blue.

"Thank you, Leon," she said, sniffing. "For everything."

"No problem," Leon replied sitting up on his elbows, Claire still on top of him. He grinned suddenly. "You're a lot heavier than you look."

Claire gave him a dirty look and pushed him back to the ground, then laughed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

The sun was on it's final decent for the day. In another few hours, it would begin to dip below the tree line of the Ecuador jungle. The Lakota flew slightly above the tree line, the trees and brush creating a thick carpet of green as it swept north, towards civilization.

Leon sat in the Lakota's cabin, his head tipped back against the back of the wall, eyes half closed. He could finally rest his exhausted body. His right arm was still sore, and his shoulder still stung, but the bleeding had stopped. His tactical vest was thrown hastily on the seat across from him. The radio ear bud was once again missing from his ear and dangling near his shoulde.

Leon's sore right arm was stretched over the shoulders and across the back of the resting figure sitting close to him. Claire was finally succumbing to her body's fatigue. Once she put her head down on Leon's shoulder, she seemed to pass out completely. Now one arm circled his waist, as if she was supporting a pillow on her bed, the other holding onto his shoulder harness.

Her gentle, warm weight snuggled near him was comforting to Leon. It assured him that she was alright, a little beat up, but still alive.

Stark had given him good news. Chris and the others had finally resurfaced. The organization had brought him up to speed, and he was anxiously waiting for them back in America. Claire didn't know this, of course. She had been sound asleep for the last twenty minutes. Leon contemplated waking her up to tell her, but then decided against it. She needed to rest.


	20. Chapter 20

**Epilogue**

"You know, Wesker, "Ada said, "If I'd known you had this in mind, I would have worn something a little more provocative."

She thumbed the chain of the handcuffs securing her wrists above her head to a metal hook. The large and mostly empty room they stood in looked like it used to serve as a storage room. The series of pulleys and winches that held the hook and chain that Ada was currently cuffed to supported her theory. The room was empty now, but in a few weeks it would be full of the organization's supplies.

Wesker slowly paced back and forth in front of her. He would walk a few meters, pause for a second, then walk back, then pause. He did this over and over. Ada lost track of how many times he passed her, and her attempts at "small talk" were only met with silence. He seemed to be thinking, but then again, he always seemed to be doing that.

Ada always wondered how this day might come, if it ever did. It stuck in the back of her mind like a splinter. When a dozen of the organization's soldiers came and subdued her, she was sure that was it: she had been discovered, and her plans were over. She couldn't fight back, not against that many armed men. Still, she remained calm and collected. They didn't shoot her outright, which meant she might have a chance to escape. They brought her to the storage room and to Wesker.

"Honestly," Ada drolled on, "If it's going to be you and me alone in a dark room with a pair of handcuffs, you could have at least served me dinner first."

"Tell me, Ada," Wesker said slowly, "Why is it that I sense that there is a traitor in our midst?"

Ada smirked and cocked an eyebrow. "A traitor? Whatever do you mean?"

"_That's right, just keep casual,_" she thought cautiously. "_He doesn't have anything on you yet._"

Of course, Wesker didn't need evidence to make her disappear. He began to pace again, still not looking at Ada.

"I've always had my suspicions, but recent events have begun to strengthen my theories. Take for example this situation with Miss Redfield."

Ada frowned inwardly. She wasn't able to anything for the Redfield directly, but at least she got the note out to Leon. She just hoped that he would follow it. Wesker had decided not to kill Claire, at least, not directly. Ada was disgusted when she saw Syrcher finish mutilating her arm over the security camera. The girl had almost folded in half during the torture. Ada was glad that the Ecuador complex's didn't pick up audio. Still, Ada could here her screams in her head. After Syrcher put away his pliers, he shoved a rag down her throat and gagged her.

At this point, Ada had had enough. She asked Wesker the point of the gag.

Wesker simply responded, "So she doesn't bite her tongue. I wouldn't want her to unexpectedly pass away before we are finished with her."

Ada had turned and rolled her eyes. She couldn't see Claire trying to kill herself by biting her tongue. She probably didn't even know about that technique. Wesker was just being cruel. He wasn't going to kill her quickly. He was just going to let her waste away when the organization abandoned the facility. Luckily, this worked perfectally for Ada's plan. Leon could save her without any problems from the organization.

"What about Redfield?" Ada asked him lazily. Her arms were tingling from the lack of blood flowing to them.

"After she parted with the knowledge she was holding, I was simply going to kill her," Wesker said, shrugging. "One less Redfield to worry about. But then I realized that I still had a use for her. Why not leave her behind? Surely someone would rescue her..."

Ada could only listen and pretend she was interested.

Wesker continued. "My head of security assured me that they left no trace of themselves when they secured Redfied." He stopped pacing and faced Ada, his black sunglasses locking onto her face. "So why is it that someone infiltrated the Ecuador complex, conveniently after we moved?"

Ada's heart beat faster. She finally saw the trap that she had unwittingly walked into. Claire had been the bait. Wesker knew someone might try to get her out. He was right; the men who had abducted her left a blank trail. Ada narrowed her eyes, playing the role of a concerned subordinate.

"Someone located her? Who?"

Wesker smiled and folded his arms across his chest.

"Leon Kennedy."

Ada felt a wave of relief. She was glad she knew how to pick her men.

"_Thank God._"

Ada chuckled. "That man certainly gets around, doesn't he?"

Wesker resumed his pacing. "My only concern is that _someone_ knows him personally. _Someone_ who works for this organization. Of all people, why is it that he shows up?"

Ada laughed, hoping that her hot face wasn't turning red, and that her laugh sounded genuine. This conversation wasn't going in a good direction.

"Do you really think that I would betray this organization?" She gave him a crestfallen look. "I'm hurt..."

Wesker didn't laugh. He habitually fixed his glasses, then stared at her.

"I know you have an infatuation with that man, and it almost cost you your life in Raccoon City," he said.

"So let me get this straight," Ada said, shifting on her feet. This position was damn uncomfortable. "You think I called in an old boyfriend to save Claire?" Leon wasn't an _old_ boyfriend, but Ada knew Wesker wouldn't take to kindly to the fact that she still had feelings for him. "You're too funny Wesker."

"You'll have to forgive me if you're the only one I suspect," he said dryly.

Ada rolled her eyes. "And what if I did?" She turned, then slightly pushed her hips in his direction. "Are you gonna spank me for being a bad girl?" She grinned alluringly and raised an eyebrow suggestively, knowing all too well that it wouldn't work on Wesker.

"Would you rather spend an evening with Syrcher?" Wesker asked. "I'm sure he's feeling a little neglected after Redfield. You'd be just the thing to brighten his day."

The threat was real, and Ada saw that. No more messing around. She looked into the blackness of his sunglasses, seeing her own reflection cuffed to the hook.

"I didn't have anything to do with this, Wesker," she said coolly. "We both know that the only reason I'm still alive is because you still have a use for me." She cocked her head, her face expressionless. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to compromise that with petty relationships?"

"I suppose not," he said. He dug into his pocket, procuring the key to her handcuffs. Ada smiled sweetly, like a child trying to get a cookie. Wesker worked the key between his fingers slowly, still staring her down. "You and Leon won't be a bother to this organization?" he asked. Ada suppressed a grin; it sounded like she was getting scolded.

"Please, Wesker," said Ada, rolling her eyes again, "The man might be good looking, but he's more trouble than he's worth."

"Then you won't mind the little experiment I performed."

Ada's eyes narrowed again, this time in confusion.

"Experiment?"

Wesker nodded. "I released the M-virus into complex. The scientists there gave us useful data to it's effects."

Ada blinked a few times, but otherwise kept a straight face. "You what?"

Wesker smiled. "It was extraordinary. The sample you provided us with shows great potential."

"_That bastard!_"

Ada was furious. Wesker had laid a trap within a trap. One was for her, the other for Leon. Was he able to save Claire? How bad was the virus? And did he make it out alive? These were just some of the questions racing through Ada's head. She forced herself to remain blank, although she longed to know if Leon was safe. But one wrong facial expression would mean her death.

"We don't know if Leon survived or not," Wesker continued, "The complex's video surveillance last saw him and Redfield entering the elevator shaft." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Leon is quite the competent soldier. I can see how he survived Raccoon."

"_Please be okay,_" she prayed, thinking of her man. She knew how tough Leon was, but this was something different. She pushed the thoughts out of her head, saving them for later, and gave her usual charming smile to Wesker, though to her it felt cold.

"I'm glad I could help." Talking to Leon in that manner made her sick. She shook her wrists slightly. "Do you think you could...?"

Wesker paused, thinking once more, then reached up and unlocked her restraints. Ada let her arms fall, then rubbed her wrists. There was a red ring around each one.

"Thank you," she said, and began to walk off.

"Ada," said Wesker, turning to her as she walked away. She paused at the door. "Make no mistake; betray us, and I _will _kill you."

Ada smiled softly. Of course he would.

"I'll keep that in mind." With that, she left the storage room.

As soon as Ada was a few hallways away, she leaned against the wall and breathed deeply. That was close. Any closer and she would have been in Claire's position, then most likely in the bottom of a hole.

"_I can't have that,_" she thought. "_Not until I've completed my own objectives._" She brushed some hair out of her eyes. "_Besides, I want to leave a beautiful corpse._"

She composed herself, then resumed her walk. What she had told Wesker was true: the only reason she was still alive is because he had a use for her. Her life would end when her usefulness ended.

"_I guess I'll just have to stay useful until then._"

Her thoughts turned to Leon. Did he make it out alive? The thought was killing her, but she had to remain cool. She had cast too much suspicion over herself, and almost paid the ultimate price. She would have to bide her time, and begin to reinforce her trust with Wesker again. If Leon was alive, he was alive, and that was all that mattered. If he was dead, there was nothing she could do.

Ada headed back to the locker room to resume packing her things. As she rounded a corner, she literally bumped into someone. It was Syrcher. It looked like he had pulled patrol duty. He gave Ada a dirty look, suggesting that Wesker had perhaps had told him that they might be seeing each other. Ada smiled, then kissed her index and middle finger and pressed them to his lips.

"Maybe next time, handsome," she said. He recoiled from her touch, and she sauntered off.

**The End**


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